Project Rebreather
by Unliteration
Summary: The girls wake from a long slumber. Will they unearth their lost past or discover that some things are best left buried? Fourth in the Ladder series.
1. Next Stop Nowhere

Project Rebreather: The Past Made Present

Chapter 1  
[Next Stop Nowhere]

Buttercup stared absently outside the window of the passenger car. She wasn't quite sure what her destination was, nor did there seem to be any point to looking out. The train moved as it always did, through an impenetrable mist that seemed lit by some unknown light.

The glass of the window against her cheek was cool and pleasant. The gentle shaking and muffled sounds of the train were soothing, inviting sleep. Yet, sleep had not come for Buttercup.

Even so, she was tired. This wasn't a bleary-eyed fight to stay awake despite her body's protests. Instead it was a dull sort of listlessness. Going to sleep at this point wouldn't be the defeat and surrender of a weary mind and body giving in to the overwhelming call of sleep. Going to sleep at this point would feel more akin to slipping into a warm bath. Gentle. Welcoming.

She had no sense of time. If she cared to glance down, she'd see the same eleven-year-old body she remembered. (Technically only six years "old," but she and her sisters had a five-year head start when they came into the world.)

For all she knew or cared, she might as well be eleven hundred. She thought not of her past, nor of where the train might be heading.

Then things began to change. Change itself was foreign to Buttercup, and so went unnoticed at first. The sounds of the train grew—or simply were—louder. The screech of metal on metal pierced through the gentle, muffled clattering that had soothed her. The rocking of the train was more violent and random—or was simply always so. Her quiet, aimless lethargy faded as she became aware of her own breathing.

With each breath, the passage of time was marked. With the passage of time, the clear demarcation of "before" and "now," Buttercup perceived change once more.

The screeching of the tracks grew louder, taking on an air of struggle and protest. Buttercup's heart began to quicken.

Train shaking her seat more violently, the cool, soothing glass became a nuisance. Sometimes she bounced against it, mashing her cheekbone. Other times she bounced away from its steady coolness. Now leaving it for good, turning her head forward, she felt flushed as her stomach tightened in anticipation.

The steady pace of the train began to change. It accelerated, increasing the frequency of the shaking and the squealing. Buttercup's heart pounded with greater force against her chest as her breath rushed to catch up.

The steady, dim light changed as well. Suddenly, Buttercup became aware of the lights in the passenger car when they flickered and went black for several seconds. Even the fog outside seemed to be growing gradually dimmer. When the lights flared back on, cold and artificial, an inexplicable sense of panic welled up inside.

The train's acceleration became ludicrous, giving a sensation akin to falling. The screeching was almost continuous, and painfully sharp. The shaking and bouncing made it seem impossible that the train didn't simply hop off the tracks. Buttercup gripped the edge of her seat and closed her eyes, but the lights flickered violently all the same.

She braced herself for the inevitable.

* * *

Author's Forward:

Professor wakes his girls from a long slumber. Will they unearth their lost past or discover that some things are best left buried?

 _Project Rebreather_ is the fourth entry of a study in horror—the _Ladder_ series. _Project Rebreather_ is intended to stand alone, although it may spoil parts of earlier stories. Worse, its treatment of some characters may seem unjust without understanding how they got where they are today. New readers are encouraged to back up to _Unstrung_ at the least. They are, of course, welcome to start at the beginning with _Ladder_ , or to ignore the author's meddling advice entirely and do as they please. The series continues in _Ashes from Ashes_.

Each story in the series examines a different form of horror. Horror does not always inspire fright, nor does it always try. _Project Rebreather_ is as much mystery as it is horror. Not so much as a puzzle for the reader—longtime readers will have many pieces in hand already and even newcomers should be able to follow various threads. Some answers may remain elusive, certainly, but the focus is on the characters' struggle with their questions. Not knowing what or who to trust can be a source of horror, especially when one cannot even trust themselves.

Other stories in the series examine horror from other perspectives. Each has a different focus and a different "feel." However, they all continue the same story line, and they were all written with the assistance of mood-setting music.

These stories list a musical accompaniment that is entirely optional, but which the reader is welcome to follow. Although not a crossover with Silent Hill, its music and music inspired by it includes some of the most beautiful, haunting melodies this author has heard. Readers who have taken the time to find these albums and songs (many freely and legally available online) have expressed happiness at the impact it had on their reading.

I personally dislike reading certain things, and try to avoid writing them. Well-established characters acting out-of-character without good reason or explanation. Grittiness and death as an alternative to telling a story. It's up to you, dear reader, to judge my eventual success or failure in these regards.

Suggested listening, presented in the order they are used:

01 - Next Stop Nowhere (Silent Hill 3 Unreleased)

02 - Day of Night (Silent Hill 2)

03 - Between Heaven and Hell (Broken Notes Unreleased)

04 - Make a Wish (Broken Notes Extremitas Vol 1)

05 - A Lullaby for Two (Endless Delusions)

06 - Undefined Sorrow (The Art of Dying)

07 - Blood Curse (Broken Notes Extremitas Vol 2)

08 - Happy Little Monster (Letters From Condemned Worlds)

09 - Drowned Hope (Broken Notes Extremitas Vol 1)

10 - Color Etereo (Broken Notes Extremitas Vol 1)

11 - Regression (Broken Notes Extremitas Vol 2)

12 - Only You (Silent Hill 1)

13 - Uncertain Sympathy (Letters From Condemned Worlds)

14 - Memoria Eterna (Broken Notes Extremitas Vol 1)

15 - Nightmare - Unedited (Broken Notes from the Vault)

16 - Uneternal Waltz (Essentia)

17 - Atone (Broken Notes Extremitas Vol 1)

18 - Tainted Desire (The Art Of Dying)

19 - Fearless (Essentia)

20 - Haunted - 2nd Floor (Ashes of Bitterness)

21 - Midnight Corridors (Broken Notes Intermission Vol 1)

22 - Station (Broken Notes from the Vault)

23 - Desolation (Broken Notes Unedited)

24 - Shattered Waltz (Broken Notes Sanatorium 2)

25 - Different Past (Essentia)

26 - Not Home (Broken Notes Extremitas Vol 2)

27 - Confrontation (Broken Notes Extremitas Vol 1)

28 - Tight Chains - No Way Out (Ashes of Bitterness)

29 - Room of Angel - Remix (Broken Notes Extremitas Vol 2)

30 - Survival (Broken Notes Extremitas Vol 2)


	2. Day of Night

Chapter 2  
[The Day of Night]

"Good morning, Buttercup."

She struggled to consciousness, eyelids fluttering as she forced them open. Her eyes rolled a bit in disorientation before she focused them.

"Dad?" she asked.

Professor smiled. It was a genuine smile, yet without warmth. "That's right, sweetie. Tell me, what's the last thing you remember?"

Buttercup blinked her eyes rapidly as she continued struggling to reorient herself. She remembered a gray place. Swirling and nebulous.

No... A gray ship. Metallic. And an actual nebula, iridescent and beautiful. Almost like a cloud in space. And...

"The ship!" Buttercup called out suddenly. She tried to sit up, but found herself unable to. She glanced down and felt a slight surge of panic at the sight of leather straps holding her down.

Her eyes swept around. The sights were familiar. The walls. The ceiling. The cabinets. Even that old, off-white lump of paperweight. Unyielding as steel to most people, under the pressures of strong hands like hers it was like clay that never dried up. After the girls had grown bored with it, it found its way down here.

She was in her father's laboratory, in the basement of their home. Earth.

"What about the ship?" Professor asked calmly, ignoring her mild panic, if he even noticed it.

Buttercup focused her attention on him. She wanted to ask about the restraints, but an odd sense of calm stole over her. She felt...safe. Like she knew nothing bad was going to happen.

After all, this man was her father.

"We were chasing after the space pirates," Buttercup said, her calmness evident. At first, she seemed to struggle just a little to remember, but then the pieces seemed to fall together. "We found the worst ship. The super high tech one with the funky black metal. They were whooping our butts in that piece of junk, hand-me-down spaceship we were stuck with."

Buttercup stopped, all her momentum vanished.

"What then?" Professor asked, his question mirroring the one in Buttercup's head.

"I don't know... How did we get home?" She looked down again. "And what's with the straps?" Buttercup briefly strained against them, expecting them to snap and tear like wet paper.

They didn't.

"Well," Professor said as he reached down for the buckle. "These were just because I wasn't sure what you were going to do when you woke up. It must seem so silly." Just before he pulled the buckle apart, he looked down at her in all seriousness and asked, "After all, you weren't thinking of hurting me or anything, were you?"

Buttercup scrunched her eyebrows at the strange question. "No. Why would I?"

Professor smiled again. Once more, it seemed genuine, though missing something Buttercup couldn't identify. "Of course, of course." He loosed the buckle, and Buttercup immediately sat up. Professor reached down to undo another strap around her legs. Buttercup saw that she was sitting on a gurney.

Professor continued speaking. "I just worried you might be...not yourself, when you woke up."

"Why? Who else would I be? C'mon, dad, level with me here."

Professor drew in a quick, deep breath that he loosed in a puff. "Well, it's kind of a long story. You see, Buttercup, you almost died."

"What?" she asked, incredulous. "How?"

"You took it upon yourself, against Blossom's orders, to leave our ship and fight the enemy ship directly. You pierced through their hull like it was nothing, but banged up your head pretty badly." Professor took Buttercup's hand in his own, pausing his speech as he did so.

She glanced down at his hand, but then focused her eyes on him as he did hers. After a few moments, he continued. "Your sisters and I were so worried. We really thought you were going to die. In fact, you should have."

"You...wanted me to die?" Buttercup asked uncertainly, the words seeming strange and alien even as they left her lips.

"Of course not, sweetie. Why would you think that?"

"I..." Buttercup trailed off, having no answer.

After another brief silence, Professor said, "What I mean is, those injuries...well, they _were_ fatal. But, lucky for us," he continued, releasing her hand and turning his back. He fiddled with something on a tray while Buttercup sat quietly and listened. "Your body seemed to go into a deep, healing coma."

"A coma? For how long?"

Still facing away, busy with something, Professor said, "What's important is, you're awake now." After a further pause, he turned around, smiling again. This time it seemed to have some real affection to it. "And everything's going to be just fine."

"'Everything's going to be just fine,'" Buttercup repeated, distantly.

"That's right. I plan to wake up your sisters soon as well."

"Wake... What? They were...hurt, too?"

"Not at the same time. You know, we really fell apart after your accident. We weren't sure you'd ever get better. In fact, we told the world you'd been cremated and even held a memorial service."

"Wait, wait, wait... I had a _funeral_?"

"A public memorial service, yes. It seemed like the best idea at the time. In fact—"

"What about Blossom and Bubbles?" Buttercup demanded, some of her familiar fire in her tone.

"Well, Blossom ran afoul of an accident here in the lab. She was pretty upset about some things, including losing you. Weeks after we'd returned to Earth, she had a little tantrum and got hurt by some dangerous equipment. Weeks after that, Bubbles was seriously injured in her efforts to stop a new supervillain serial killer called the Harvester."

"Wow... You guys really did fall apart without me."

"But we're all coming together again now. I'll keep an eye on your progress for a few days, but soon I'll wake them as well."

"A few days? Why not now?"

"Well... How to put this..." Apparently, it didn't take long to figure out how to put it. "Your condition was beginning to deteriorate. Physically, you've been quite healthy, but just weren't waking up. So, I was planning to wait and let this run its course. Let your amazing powers come to your rescue. But, it seems, you needed a little push."

"Why?"

"Well, Buttercup, it seems your mind was growing weaker from that long, dreamless sleep. Just like muscles can atrophy from disuse, so can the mind. You've experienced nothing between your accident and now. No experiences, no ideas, no thoughts, no dreams. You've woken up from a very long, empty sleep. Do you understand?"

"Um... I guess? Are you saying I'm gonna be retarded or something?"

"Oh, no. Nothing like that. In fact, there was very, very little impact at all. But it was becoming clear to me that your healing coma had served its purpose, and was now just holding you back. You'll be perfectly fine, but some of your most recent memories might be a little fuzzy. But if you do notice anything strange—anything at all—please tell me immediately. Missing memories, strange dreams, anything. You can tell me. You can trust me. Do you understand?"

Buttercup half-grunted, half-sighted. "Yes, already, I understand! Why do you keep asking me that?"

Professor's mouth twitched in a brief smile. "It's just good to have my daughter back. That's all I care about right now."

Looking back at the straps that had once held her, Buttercup asked, "So what about my powers?"

"That's how I woke you. Your powers were the source of your coma. I think once your body readjusts to being awake, we should be able to restore your powers without difficulty. If we did it right now, however, your body might just slip back into sleep out of habit."

"That makes sense, I guess." Feeling a mild hunger pang, she put her hand to her stomach and said. "So, uh, speaking of lost memories, I can't remember the last time I ate."

Professor smiled more strongly than ever, his eyes growing soft. "Oh, Buttercup," he said, stepping forward to embrace her. "I love you, sweetheart."

When his hand touched her back, Buttercup felt a strange sensation in her head. Like something half-remembered floating to the surface and distracting her.

Before the strange sensation stole her attention, her mind snapped into sharper focus. A question. "Dad? How long was I out?"

Releasing the embrace, which Buttercup hadn't even protested, Professor said, "Well, you might want to brace yourself. Okay? ... It's been almost three years."


	3. Between Heaven and Hell

Chapter 3  
[Between Heaven and Hell]

Buttercup climbed the stairs to the kitchen, Professor behind her. The house seemed so quiet upstairs. In one sense, this wasn't unusual at all. In recent years, the girls had begun to keep to themselves, and Professor was often in his lab.

Yet, silence in a building grew almost like a fungus. A place long undisturbed acquires a certain air, a character that can be felt. The house felt like it had already made that transition between the mere absence of sound into the active presence of silence.

"The house." "My home" might have been a more appropriate thought, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she didn't really belong here. Her footsteps, soft as they were, were loud in her ears. She passed into the living room and looked around, and the silky soft sounds of her shirt seemed like the stern shushing of an unseen audience.

The lights weren't on. Buttercup flipped the switch, trying to drive away the gloom outside. Rain was on the way.

"Looks just the way I remember it," she said.

"Good," Professor replied. Buttercup jumped at the sound of his voice, so much louder than her almost-whispered tone. "I expected as much, but that's still very good. Your room's been tidied up, but it should just about be the way you left it."

"What about school? Our friends? The town?"

"Soon, Buttercup. Soon. Right now, we need to focus on things in this house. Until you get your powers back—get back to one hundred percent—the best thing to do is keep to ourselves. We kept your comas secret so that your enemies wouldn't come here looking for you at your most vulnerable. You'll make your debut soon enough, I'm sure."

Buttercup was willing to leave it at that for now, but then she felt her temper flare up despite herself. "Well, I want to know what's going on right now! What's everybody up to? Did the city get bad again without anyone to crack down on the bad guys? And where the heck are my sisters?"

"They're downstairs, safe and sound."

"Well, I wanna see them!"

"Buttercup—"

"Now!"

"We can. We will, if you want. I just remember you saying you wanted to get something to eat, that's all."

"Oh."

"'Oh,' indeed. Look, sweetie, I understand. Just... Just, please, work with me here. I'll do everything in my power to make things right for you. You believe that, don't you?"

Buttercup rolled her eyes. "Well, duh."

"Well, how about this. You help yourself to a bite to eat and I'll head downstairs and open up the inner lab."

"The inner lab?" Buttercup smirked. "Like, because that's where you keep your inner children or something?"

"I had a section of the lab sealed off a while back to keep you girls safe and hidden away. I'll keep your sisters there for a few days until we can be sure there weren't any side effects from your premature awakening."

"Makes sense. I'll be right down."

Conversing with Professor had helped to dispel the sense of being a foreigner in her own house. Buttercup felt no sense of unease as she set grabbed a plate and some sandwich stuff from the fridge. Still, she couldn't help but be reminded of how much things had changed when she grabbed the bread and noticed a small patch of mold on it.

With a little half-sigh, half-grunt, she tossed it in the trash. Out of curiosity she opened the lunch meat container just a crack. It smelled a little "off" as well.

Tossing that away, she settled on toaster pastries. She wasn't sure they even had an expiration date, or that she'd even notice if it went past.

Plodding downstairs, she paused in her chewing to ask, "'Sup?"

Professor had wheeled two other gurneys into the main lab area. Her sisters' straps weren't buckled as they'd been on Buttercup, but from the sounds of it they weren't going to wake up on their own anyway.

It looked like they were just sleeping. Wearing their usual pink and blue wardrobes, as Buttercup had woken up in her green.

"Weird," she said after finishing another mouthful. "We haven't aged at all these last three years." With her free hand, she absently fiddled with a metal tab on the side of Bubbles's gurney. She wasn't even paying attention to her sisters now. They were fine. After all, the three of them were always fine.

"If only I could say the world hadn't moved on without you. I really regret that you'll all have to make new friends when you start going to school again."

Buttercup scoffed. "Big whoop. I mean, the kids are nice and all, but we've always been 'the other girls.' So long as the three of us stick together, we'll be fine."

The silence that followed eventually grew awkward. Buttercup stopped fiddling with the gurney and turned to face Professor. When their eyes met, he blinked a few times. As he wiped away a tear, he said, "I think so, too. I promise...I'll try to not keep you from them for too long."

"Meh. I can stand a few days of peace and quiet. Oh, by the way, the bread and bologna went bad, so I tossed 'em."

Professor grimaced. "I knew I forgot something. Sorry, sweetie, but it's been a while since I went shopping." Glancing at the sleeping girls, then back to Buttercup, an idea seemed to dawn. "Hey, maybe you can do me a favor—check through the kitchen and make a list? And if there's any special treat you want... Well, seems like this is worth a little celebration."

"Sure thing." And at that, she jogged upstairs to do just that. Professor watched as she did so, as she acted like nothing at all was amiss. He was almost afraid to hope, but it seemed that perhaps, after all these years, he had his daughter again.

He joined her in the kitchen a little while after.

"Hey, dad. So I was thinking, maybe I could pick out some ice cream. See if there are any new flavors."

"Oh... Oh, Buttercup, maybe I should have been clearer. I'm going to need you to stay here for a while. We don't want anyone knowing you're back just yet."

"Oh, yeah. I guess you did say something about that." She didn't seem to protest further, instead tearing off the top sheet of the notepad she was scribbling on. "Here you go. I'll try not to wreck the place while you're gone. Too much."

Professor smiled. "I'm really sorry to rush off like this right away."

Buttercup shrugged. "That's all right. You did the same thing the last time."

"Last time?" he asked uncertainly.

"Yeah. When you first made us, you ran out to buy stuff."

His eyes darted away as he struggled to remember. In a few moments, it seemed to come back to him. "You know, you're right. I... Well, I'd plum near forgotten. And here we were worrying about _your_ memory." He chuckled, leaned forward, and kissed the top of her head. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Meanwhile, you try and get settled in."

"Sure thing." Rather than protest the affectionate peck, Buttercup actually reached out and gave Professor a hug goodbye. As she did so, she spotted a small string of writing on what should have been a fresh, blank sheet on the notepad. When she let go, she examined it more closely. The tiny writing was so close to the top that someone flipping through the notebook would have probably missed it.

The little, handwritten letters said, "It's nothing."

"What's wrong, honey?" Professor asked. "Something the matter?"

"It's nothing," Buttercup replied. Shaking her head, she set the notepad aside. "How about peanut butter brownies?"

"Coming right up." Professor checked his pocket for his keys and asked, "Anything else?"

"Nah. I'll just watch T.V. or something."

"Give it a try if you want. I've been waiting days for the satellite company to come and fix our dish after that storm."

"We switched to satellite? And why couldn't you just fix it?"

Professor winked at her. "I've had more important things on my mind. I'll hurry back soon."

"'Kay. See ya."

"See ya," he echoed, slipping out to the garage.

After he left, Buttercup's attention returned to the pad of paper. It was kind of weird, but somehow it didn't concern her. She tore off that sheet as well, only then noticing another scribble.

"Make paper airplanes," it said.

For a moment, she just stared at it, brow furrowed. Then she blinked a few times and climbed the stairs, the torn out sheet of paper in one hand and the rest of the pad in the other. Rather than visiting her bedroom, she sat behind the second floor railing, overlooking the living room.

Slowly, mechanically, Buttercup folded the first piece of paper, the "it's nothing" paper, into a crude paper airplane. She never bothered to ask herself why.

Her first plane was simple, but not too shabby. She reached her hand through the railing to get an unobstructed throw, and it sailed a few feet before swooping down and crashing on the sofa.

She tore off the "make paper airplanes" sheet. Using the pad as a semi-firm surface to fold against, the writing on the next sheet of paper was right in front of her.

"Always sleep alone."

The "make paper airplanes" sheet was turned into a thin, sleek dart. It collided with the living room curtains on the far side of the first floor.

Buttercup tore off the next sheet, but there was no more writing beneath. The third and final sheet was folded more elaborately. Its broad-winged shape had no stability, and almost as soon as it left her hand it fluttered and fell to the ground below, swaying back and forth as it went.

Clutching the bars of the railing like a prison cell, Buttercup leaned forward and stared through them. The windows had darkened further, and the sound of heavy rain soon swept over the house.

In no rush to go to her room, seeing no point in trying the television, Buttercup sat and listened to the quiet cacophony of raindrops.

She pondered the strange writing on the notepad, but in the end, she had no idea what it might mean or how it came to be.

* * *

Over the next three days, Buttercup spent more time with her dad than she'd remembered spending in a long time. It wasn't all that bad, really. Without the T.V. working, he'd let her pick out an old movie to watch together. They also spent a lot of time playing board games. Some of them Buttercup couldn't even remember them owning, but which had apparently been played before. That was more Bubbles's thing, anyway. Buttercup usually preferred video games to actually socializing with her family over a board game.

He'd been curious about the paper airplanes when he came home. Buttercup just admitted she had nothing better to do. He didn't even notice the writing, folded up deep inside. She crumpled them and threw them out after helping put away groceries.

Every morning and every night, Professor took her down to the lab for some brief tests and a fresh dose of Antidote X. The first time he did so, he pointed to his stash of Chemical X in the cabinets. In case of emergency, so to speak.

He checked blood pressure, pupil dilation, and reflexes. Asked more-or-less the same simple questions. Seemed he had a list or form printed up and everything. For example, was she sleeping well or did she have any funny dreams. Truth be told, Buttercup couldn't remember her dreams most nights, and these last few were no exception. Maybe if her alarm woke her too early, sure, but right now she had nowhere to be and slept in as long as she wanted.

After finishing up the most recent morning's questions, Professor said, "Well, Buttercup, I can honestly say I can't tell that there's anything amiss. I'd like to wake up Blossom today—she was the second to go unconscious, after all. We'll give her a day or two, and we'll repeat the procedure for Bubbles."

"Awesome! So when do I get my powers back?"

Professor smiled. "Well, it might still be too soon, but there may not be much harm in trying. Worst case, I'll just have to wake you up again, and you might lose any progress you've made in your recovery. In which case, you'd be no worse off than Blossom."

"Why are you so sure Chemical X would just knock me out again?"

Professor shrugged. "It's your call, sweetie. Would you like to give it a try?"

"Sure would!" she replied, hopping off the counter top she'd sat on during her examination. She strolled over to the cabinet Professor had pointed out a few days ago and punched in the code he'd given her. The keypad flashed green and the lock clicked open. Inside were flasks and vials of various sizes, all containing Chemical X. She grabbed a small vial and closed the cabinet.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Ready when you are, but...well, just in case, would you at least sit or lie down first?"

Buttercup rolled her eyes. "Whatever. I'm sure I'll be fine. Bottoms up!" With that, she tore the plastic seal from the top of the vial and practically poured it down her throat. It didn't exactly have a pleasant taste to savor, after all. But, in her mind, it was a small cost to get back superpowers like hers.

Buttercup crushed the vial in her hand and saw no cuts or scrapes when she opened it. Holding up her palm she said, "See? What'd I tell ya? Nothing...to...worry..."

Somehow, the ground seemed to be falling up at her.


	4. Make a Wish

Chapter 4  
[Make a Wish]

Blossom's eyes fluttered open. She stretched out and had a yawn, but her movements revealed how stiff the surface she lay on was.

"Good morning, Blossom," Professor said.

Blossom sat up and looked around the room. She was in the lab, on a gurney. Buttercup lay on one beside her, still asleep.

"What's going on, Professor? When did we get home? Last thing I remember, Buttercup shot out the airlock to fight the enemy ship. Against my direct order, of course."

Blossom wasn't terribly distraught. Things seemed to be well under control if they'd made it home after all.

"Hmm... That's odd," Professor said with clinical detachment. "Hold that thought and let me wake up your sister." From a nearby tray, he grabbed a hypodermic needle with a dark gray liquid. He gently squeezed and tapped the air out, ignoring the small drops of liquid that ran down the length of the needle as he did so.

"What's that?"

"Antidote X. It's a long story." If so, she hoped that was a polyduranium needle. In any case, Professor must have had a reason to inject rather than splash. Likely it was more efficient, less messy, and less chance of contaminating something in the lab with the spillage.

Briefly, Blossom tried to hover. Nothing happened. She continued sitting instead.

While she waited patiently for Buttercup to respond to her treatment, Blossom looked around the room. Without her super hearing and penetrating vision, there wasn't much to take in, but she hated being behind the curve. She hoped to spot a clock, a calendar, anything unusual. Anything she could figure out on her own before Professor spelled it out would be a little victory for her. After all, she had to keep her skills sharp to lead a team like the PowerPuff Girls. The only notable thing so far was that Bubbles was the only family member she didn't see.

Buttercup moaned softly. Blossom turned her attention that way. Groggy, Buttercup reached up to rub her eyes. Blossom could almost see Buttercup's world slowly coming into focus again. At least she was one step ahead of someone.

"Wh—wha? Hey!" Buttercup near-shouted, indignant. She sat upright and glared at Professor. "How come you woke her up first?"

Well, so much for being one step ahead of anyone.

"Sorry, Buttercup, I didn't mean anything by it. Now, Blossom, tell us again what's the last thing you remember."

Although she knew this was for Buttercup's benefit, her attention was wholly on Professor as she said, "Well, we were on the ship, and Buttercup flew out into space to engage the enemy directly. Which, I might add, she did against—" Turning to face Buttercup as she cranked up the holier-than-thou in her tone of voice, she faltered briefly. "—my orders."

Buttercup stared at her with some mixture of emotion Blossom had never seen on her face before. Shock, amazement, and wonder came to mind. So did sadness, joy, and yearning. Blossom almost expected her to burst into tears and hug her, but in the blink of an eye the expression was gone.

"Wait..." Buttercup began. "You mean the ship is the last thing you remember, too? But Professor said you conked out, like, weeks after me."

"'Conked out?' Okay, will one of you please explain what's going on here?"

"Allow me," Professor said. He rolled over a tall stool and sat on it. He shared with Blossom the same basic details he had with Buttercup. Then he went on to add, "It seems my suspicions were correct and that, even after three days, Buttercup's body wants to remain in the healing coma if given Chemical X. I'm afraid I have no firm explanation for your memory lapse, but I do have a theory. It's possible that you girls are connected in some way we don't currently understand. In a way, maybe losing Buttercup—'losing' in the loosest sense of word, of course—maybe losing Buttercup had a deeper effect on you and Bubbles. Now, it's entirely possible that your memories may return on their own. If you even begin to remember anything, I'd like for you to let me know immediately. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Professor. Of course."

"Now, I'd like to keep you both under observation for another day or two before waking Bubbles. Purely out of paranoia, of course. There seems to be absolutely nothing wrong with either of you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Good. Now, Blossom, I would really, really like to spend some time with you right now. I've missed you so much over the last three years."

Blossom's expression softened. "I understand, Professor. Dad."

"But, Buttercup, if the two of you would keep each other company for just a little while, I want to examine some blood I drew after your relapse. See if I can get a better feel for how your body reacted and maybe predict when we can safely return your powers. So—would you like to spend some time with Blossom?"

Blossom saw Buttercup smile and open her mouth to give Professor her reply. She seemed excited. Unusually emotional once again. But, once again, she seemed to snap out of it. This time, she even shook her head a bit as if to cast of some uninvited thought.

When she did respond, it was in the more reluctant demeanor Blossom expected. "If I have to, I guess. C'mon—the T.V.'s still busted, so maybe we can play video games or something."

"Oh—about that," Professor interjected. "The reason I didn't suggest it earlier was that the Internet is out as well. Part of the same dish, now. Last I checked, your video game console seems to want some kind of update."

Buttercup sighed. "It figures. How about a game of hangman?"

Blossom smiled knowingly. Same old antisocial Buttercup. At least she could grill her for more information while they passed the time. "Sounds good enough to me. We'll be upstairs, Professor."

She and Buttercup hopped off their gurneys. On impulse, Blossom reached to grab Buttercup's hand, intertwining their fingers.

Something about the gesture seemed...strangely familiar. Somehow comforting. Perhaps a faint memory of a time when Blossom still wondered if she'd ever see Buttercup again? Being happy to be reunited?

Before Blossom could really mull over it, Buttercup snatched her hand away. "What am I, five?"

Eyes narrowed, Blossom shot back, "Well, if hand-holding is what it's going to take to keep you from running off and getting yourself killed..." She paused to lean in uncomfortably, mockingly close. "Then you can just start calling me 'mommy' from now on."

Expecting a sneer, Blossom was a bit taken aback to see Buttercup appear genuinely hurt. Like a trusted friend had just stabbed her. Or at least slapped her across the face. The two of them got along all right most of the time, but they weren't exactly peas in a pod. Blossom wondered if they'd shared something she'd forgotten, but that didn't make sense. The only memories Blossom had lost came from a time when Buttercup was "gone."

Could it be... Was Buttercup really feeling that guilty about what she'd put her family through? Of course. That had to be it.

Pulling back, Blossom apologized. "Sorry, that was mean. But...promise me you won't go pulling another stunt like that again, would you?"

Yes, it must be the guilt. Buttercup actually looked about ready to apologize. Blossom could see it play out before it even happened. Buttercup would mumble something under her breath that Blossom could barely hear, get embarrassed, and try her best to never speak of it again. If Blossom was feeling particularly cruel, she'd ask Buttercup to repeat herself so Blossom could hear it. Then they'd—

"I promise," Buttercup replied, her voice hoarser than normal. She stepped forward and hugged Blossom, who was, once again, _not_ a step ahead after all.

Though she was surprised, she wasn't upset. Blossom smiled and patted her sister on the back. "There, there. I'm sure you've learned your lesson. I'm just glad we're back together again."

"That's the spirit," Professor said, smiling warmly. "Now, shoo. Shoo! I'll be up in a bit to throw a roast in the crock pot for tonight."

Blossom and Buttercup turned to each other again. After a few moments, they simultaneously donned mischievous grins.

"Race you!" they called out to each other before bounding up the stairs to the kitchen. They couldn't seem to agree on which of them actually won the race.

"Fine, but I get to pick the first word," Buttercup argued as she pulled out their old Hangman game. It was a little set with letter tiles that could be flipped over and a dial that could be turned to display a hanged man in various stages of being drawn. More elaborate than simple pen-and-paper. Needless luxury. But, then again, the girls did live a very good life in spite of all the hardships they endured in their work.

Buttercup put in a five letter word.

"Fine. 'E.'" Buttercup turned the dial. "'T.'" Again. "'A.'" Again. "'O?'" Blossom asked, less certainly. She was quickly running through the most frequent letters of the alphabet.

Thankfully, she had an "O." The second letter of the mystery word. She sat and thought, while Buttercup smiled smugly.

"So, is this what you've been up to the last three days?"

"Kinda. It's actually starting to get old."

"Really? 'N.' So why do you seem so eager to play, hmm?"

Buttercup turned the dial. "Because now that I've got a little practice, I'm looking forward to creaming you."

"Oh, ho! You are, are you?"

"What's that? An 'R'?" Buttercup teasingly reached for the dial.

Blossom smirked. "Well, not now that you've tipped me off. 'S.'"

Buttercup turned the dial. "So, you don't remember anything after I went into my coma?"

Blossom paused to consider. "No, not really. I certainly don't remember getting into any accident or what I might have been so upset about. 'H.'"

Buttercup turned the dial. Six wrong guesses down, the gallows was built and waiting for the little man. Should she do more vowels? There had to be at least one more.

Buttercup said, "I didn't even bother asking Professor. I figured I could just ask you and Bubbles when you woke up. Guess I was wrong."

"'I.'"

A little head appeared below the gallows. Buttercup added, "Maybe we should ask him?"

"'U?' I plan to. Wonder what had me all in a huff, anyway."

A torso appeared below the head. "Maybe you just missed me so much, you couldn't help yourself."

"Ha! A likely story. Maybe I just missed your reckless stupidity so much I tried to emulate you."

Buttercup and Blossom glared quietly at each other for a few seconds. Then they smiled, clearly no harm done.

"There really is an 'R' in there, isn't there? You tried to trick me." Blossom asked.

"I dunno. One way to find out..."

"Fine. 'R.'"

Out came the first leg.

"Darn it. I've done all the vowels, right? Give me a 'Y.'"

Buttercup smirked, but didn't turn the dial. The last letter was "Y."

"Something, 'O,' something, something, 'Y...' Okay, so how has Professor been monitoring your progress, exactly? 'D'"

And then the second leg. "Checkups twice a day. Blood pressure, light in my eyes—stuff like that."

"'L.' How about Professor? He must have taken the last three years pretty hard."

The first arm appeared. One more mistake and Blossom was out. "I dunno. He seems okay. I'm kinda glad he hasn't gotten all mushy on me, but he and I have been spending a ton of time together."

Blossom studied what little she had revealed so far. "You know it's not allowed to be a name, right?"

"Yup. Your move."

"I'm still thinking... Wait! 'Foggy.' My guess is 'foggy.'"

Buttercup wore a thin, gloating smile as she turned the dial one last time. She spun the board around, revealing three "M"s. "Looks like you don't want to be my mommy after all."

"All right. You won fair and square. My uppance has come and whatnot. But, just so we're in agreement, I totally beat you to the top of the stairs."


	5. A Lullaby for Two

Chapter 5  
[A Lullaby for Two]

Blossom's first day back was pretty uneventful. Professor remained tight-lipped about Blossom's lost memories. "It's not the easiest thing for me to talk about. And I'd really like to see if Bubbles has anything to say first, or whether those memories return on their own."

And so it would have to be. Blossom wasn't perfect, but unlike Buttercup, she generally respected authority. She would trust her father's decision to keep quiet, even if all her efforts to retrace her steps and jog her memory had failed so far.

Worries of school and the city were put on the back burner as well. Professor did admit that they'd probably want to wait until summer had passed and enroll them in sixth grade come fall. Buttercup seemed happy at the thought of skipping the last few months of fifth grade. Blossom was less exuberant, but confident she could handle the jump better than her sister.

Somehow, despite having nothing much to do, Blossom still felt tired at the end of the first day. Maybe it was that she and her family rarely had the luxury of spending this much time together. Part of her really wished Bubbles was awake already, as Blossom was certain she'd enjoy it more than any of them.

Before the accident, Buttercup mostly kept to herself and got cranky when coaxed out of her room, even if she usually ended up having a good time despite herself.

Similarly, Blossom was content to study, read, and plan by herself. She didn't grump over family activities like Buttercup did, but she didn't crave them like Bubbles did.

So why did she feel lonely right now?

Blossom turned her head to see the lights of her alarm clock in the dark. It was creeping closer to midnight, and the growing tightness in her stomach was making it harder and harder to sleep.

The numbers grew blurry, and Blossom was surprised to find her eyes moist with tears. She clenched her eyelids to drive away the uninvited things, and blinked her eyes to steady herself. Maybe she really had missed Buttercup. Professor had tried to explain things gently and vaguely, but maybe those forgotten days were darker than he let on.

One thing was certain, however. Blossom wanted to see Buttercup again. She decided she'd worry about the "why" and "how" later, and climbed out of her bed. She paused to stare up at her ceiling, briefly wishing she had her powers so she could check to see if Buttercup was still awake. But then again, the girls tried to avoid using their penetrating vision outside of their superheroics. Tried to respect that walls and privacy existed for good reason.

Either way, she wasn't sure what to expect when she slipped out of her bedroom, into the living room. The girls had been put in separate bedrooms years ago, Blossom moving into a study on the first floor, underneath the bedrooms. Bubbles had remained in their childhood room, and Buttercup moved down a door into the old guest bedroom.

Blossom gently crept up the stairs, her bare feet unaccustomed to feeling the carpet underneath. Blossom preferred to glide around the house when barefoot. Though she made hardly a sound, part of her worried she'd wake someone.

A floorboard creaked as she neared Buttercup's door. She hoped her sister was awake—she'd hate to stand around in the hall knocking on the door and waiting around like a fool.

Softly, she knocked. A few seconds later, the door opened a crack and Buttercup peered through.

"Yeah?" she asked softly.

"Um... Mind if I come in?"

"Sure," Buttercup said, starting to open the door. Then she stopped herself short and closed it back to just a crack. "Wait. What for?"

"I dunno. Just...feeling lonely, somehow. Weird, huh?"

Buttercup was silent for a while. "So...what, you want to cozy up and sleep together?"

Blossom smiled. It hadn't been her plan, but... "You know, why not? It'd be like old times."

"My bed isn't even big enough for two people. What are you going to do, sleep on the floor?"

Blossom's mouth flapped open and shut like a fish. Somehow, those words hurt more than they should have. Her response seemed to fall out of its own accord, like the playback of some recording. "I... I don't know... Yes?"

Buttercup narrowed her eyes, but Blossom could barely tell in this light. "No. Goodnight."

With that, the door was closed, and Blossom was left standing alone in the hallway, feeling a fool. Wishing Buttercup had been asleep after all.

Stunned, shocked, she stood there for a while, blinking away tears and wondering why it hurt so much.

* * *

On the other side of the door, Buttercup pressed her ear against it, trying to listen over her pounding heart and trying to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Why had she declined?

No. No, that was easy. "Always sleep alone." Who had written that message, when, or why, Buttercup didn't know. She hadn't even thought about it again until tonight. But when Blossom stopped by, it had suddenly carried the weight of a grave warning. Paranoid fear set in.

No, the harder question was why she had wanted to accept. Buttercup wasn't the touchy-feely type. At the best of times she barely tolerated hugs and kisses, or even a friendly hand on her shoulder. She'd been glad to get her own bed and her own room.

Why did she want to open the door and call Blossom back? Why was the thought of Blossom more comforting than even a teddy bear or her old blankie? Why did she want to spend the night with her sister?

And how the heck could it be so important that she didn't?

* * *

Blossom fell face first into her bed, muffling her sobs in her bedding. She was so embarrassed. That had to be the explanation. It's the only thing that made sense. She hadn't wanted to sleep beside her sisters for years, so why would it be so important now? Every once in a great while Bubbles would claim to have a bad dream and Blossom would dutifully act as teddy bear for the night, but that was it.

But being rebuffed by Buttercup...that was par for the course. Why had she even expected different?

Amidst the jumble of confusion and emotion, she was still able to recognize another feeling. Guilt. But Blossom hadn't done anything wrong. If anything, Buttercup should be feeling guilty. Even if she turned Blossom down, did she have to be so harsh about it?

Blossom rolled over to get some air. She'd quieted down, anyway. After a few deep breaths, she started to feel normal again. Without thinking, she reached behind her head, above the books in her headboard. Her hand grabbed nothing, and she wasn't sure what she was after.

So instead she grabbed her flashlight and flicked it on. Rather than dwell on things, maybe she could just read herself to sleep. She skimmed the titles, focusing on the ones she hadn't read in years. It was nice to re-read her books every once in a while.

In the end, nothing grabbed her attention. Not even an old favorite. She even rested her hand on it, ready to pull it out, but the thought of re-reading it just wasn't appealing. Somehow the memories were still too strong, although she was certain she hadn't read it in years.

Sighing in frustration, she clicked her flashlight off, set it back on her headboard, and hoped she could just will herself to sleep.

When that failed, she opened her eyes to glare at the ceiling, secretly hoping Buttercup would feel the gesture even if she couldn't see it.

Quickly, her eyes were drawn to something else. On the "ceiling" of her headboard was a soft glow that hadn't been there earlier in the night. Strongest on one side, where she'd shone her flashlight hardest and longest.

It was a message, written in some kind of phosphorescent ink. Blossom had never seen it before, and had no idea who had written it, or why.

"We are not ourselves," it said.

Blossom rolled onto her side, curling up in the hopes of quashing the empty feeling inside. She couldn't help but agree with the unknown author.


	6. Undefined Sorrow

Chapter 6  
[Undefined Sorrow]

Professor examined Buttercup and Blossom separately the next morning. Buttercup reported nothing different than before.

"Now, you can answer the following questions with 'None,' 'Some,' or 'Lots.' 'I don't know' and 'Maybe' are acceptable as well. Again, if you've noticed anything amiss, however insignificant, you know you can tell me. You have no reason to be embarrassed or worried that I will respond badly. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Professor." Blossom replied.

"Have you experienced nightmares?"

"None."

"Unusual dreams?"

"None."

"In the waking hours, have you had feelings of deja vu?"

"None."

"Unexpected positive emotions, like happiness, relief, or satisfaction."

Blossom considered this. Unexpected? "None."

"Unexpected negative emotions, like anger, sadness or depression, or remorse?"

"None."

"An impulse to act in an unusual way or do something out of the norm?"

"Um... None?"

"'None' or 'Maybe?'"

"Nothing."

"So, 'None,' then? No impulse to act in an unusual way or do something out of the norm?"

"Well... I was feeling kind of lonely last night."

"Is that normal for you?"

"No, not at all."

"So you'd characterize that as an 'unexpected negative emotion?'"

"Well... I guess you could say that, sure. It was just loneliness, though."

"And that made you act, or want to act, in a way that is also unusual for you?"

Blossom sighed. "I guess. I decided to hang out with Buttercup, if she was still awake."

"Go on."

"I... I don't know. She was just being Buttercup. You know how she gets. I shouldn't have even bothered her."

"So you went to see her and she sent you away?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"And how did that make you feel?"

"Well," Blossom cleared her throat and mocked, "I would characterize that as 'a perfectly normal, expected negative emotion.'"

Professor smiled, wearily. "You think those feelings and actions are unusual for you. So do you think you might feel or do them again?"

"Probably not. I guess we're just...not ourselves, lately." Blossom grimaced. She hadn't meant to quote the strange message on her headboard, but it wasn't her fault it was a fitting description. "I'm sure it was just a fluke. Unless it was prompted by some repressed memory or something, but even then I get the message. I've learned my lesson—doesn't matter if I used to feel lonely or used to miss Buttercup. Things are clearly going to be business as usual around here. And that's okay with me."

"That's good, honey. Very good. Now, in the waking hours, any feeling as if the things you were experiencing weren't real, or that they felt like a dream?"

"None."

And so the questions continued and concluded, and they got on with their day. Professor excused himself after lunch for a dentist's appointment, again encouraging the girls to spend time together. "Watch a movie or something," he'd suggested.

And so they did, sitting on opposite ends of the couch. It was some psychological thriller they barely remembered, but still thought was good.

During a lull, Blossom asked, "Do you want anything to drink? I'm going to get myself some tea."

"I'll take a soda."

Blossom returned a short while later with a cup of warm water, the string of a tea bag hanging out, and a can of Buttercup's favorite soda.

"Sorry about last night, by the way. I shouldn't have bothered you."

Buttercup looked away, feeling awkward. "'s okay," she muttered.

Blossom smiled and sat on her end of the couch. "What can I say? I guess I just didn't want the day to end. I was so tired, I just wasn't acting myself." She winced. There she went, practically quoting her headboard again. She wondered if she should have reported that message to Professor, but its existence had nothing to do with her state of being.

"'s okay," Buttercup repeated, staring at the carpet in front of her.

Blossom watched from her side of the couch. She felt an urge to scoot over and give her sister a hug. In fact, she thought, it wouldn't even be truly unusual for her. Buttercup just looked like she needed cheering up, was all.

"Is everything okay?" Blossom asked, staying put for now.

"Yeah," Buttercup responded, turning her attention to the TV again.

Blossom considered pushing the matter, but decided against it. Buttercup needed her space sometimes.

* * *

Buttercup wrestled with whether to say anything more. She felt bad that Blossom was the one apologizing to her. After all, Buttercup had been the rude one. Buttercup had been acting strangely, pushing her sister away like that.

Or was pushing people away supposed to be normal for her? She thought it was. So why did this feel strange instead?

One way or another, she felt bad. Blossom didn't mean any harm by it. Buttercup had just been freaked out on account of the message she'd read days ago. She must've been too tired to think straight.

"I'm sorry."

"What's that?" Blossom asked.

Buttercup was startled. She was surprised she'd actually said it. Normally, saying "sorry" was a hard thing for her to do. She almost wasn't sure she'd said anything at all until Blossom spoke up.

"I'm sorry," Buttercup repeated more firmly, staring at the carpet again. "I shouldn't have been so mean. You didn't deserve that."

"Well... Thank you, Buttercup. I really appreciate it."

Buttercup chanced a glance at her sister. Blossom was smiling, and that made her happy. In fact, Buttercup opened her mouth to suggest that maybe they could bunk together later if she wanted.

But the message flashed in her head. "Always sleep alone."

Buttercup shut her mouth. Blossom looked at her strangely. Had she noticed Buttercup's sudden change in expression?

"It's no big thing," Buttercup said. "You know what? It actually has been kind of fun hanging out." That was true. And there was no mysterious note to tell her it wasn't okay to admit it. "Playing hooky from school and crime fighting."

Blossom smirked. "I bet you would like that. Well, half of that anyway. You must feel pent up, sleeping for three years then shut up in the house for a whole week with nothing to do."

Buttercup shrugged. "I manage."

Blossom considered something for a moment, then grinned wickedly. "I've got an idea. Why don't we sneak out and run around in the back yard for a bit?"

Buttercup's eyes widened. "What? But you know what Professor—"

"You in or not?" Blossom asked, standing up. Even she sometimes saw fit to bend the rules. For Buttercup, today, right now—this was a rule she was totally willing to bend.

After a moment, Buttercup stood as well. "Like I'm gonna let you have all the fun!"

They jogged the short distance to the back door. It was locked.

"Uh, Blossom? Why is the keyhole on the inside?"

"It is strange," Blossom admitted, trying futilely to peek through the back window to see if the knob was simply on backwards. It would be unlike the Professor to make a mistake like that, but if he did, she should point it out.

"You know... Hold on." Buttercup left her sister behind, only to call out from the front door. "This one, too."

Blossom furrowed her brow and went to join Buttercup in front. Together, they went to the garage door, finding it couldn't be unlocked from the inside either. Blossom was surprised she hadn't noticed any of this before now, but as she thought back on it, she realized Professor had unlocked the door to the garage with his key when he left.

"Why would Professor lock us inside?" Blossom mused aloud.

"Yeah, it's not like we're going to leave the house without his permission."

Buttercup had said it in all seriousness, but when she and Blossom looked each other in the eye they realized they'd actually been preparing to do just that. With that mutual realization, they shared a good laugh together.

"Still," Blossom said, "you'd think he'd trust us more by now."

"Well," Buttercup replied, pounding her fist into her palm. "I say let 'im enjoy it while he can. Just wait until you and Bubbles are sneaking out to visit boys in a few years."

"Oh? And not you?"

"Pshaw! As if. I'll be sneaking out to crack skulls and break stuff."

"Well, at least you're honest. What do you say we don't bother Professor about the locks just yet?"

"Yeah, he's got enough to worry about. I'm just gonna enjoy the vacation."

"Still, it is kind of creepy. No television. No Internet. Wouldn't it be weird if the phone lines were down?"

Buttercup shrugged. "Not really. Even three years ago everyone was switching to cell phones. If we had no landline, I'd probably say dad finally got with the times."

Blossom chuckled. "I dunno. Three years without us to take care of him, I'm surprised he still owns clothes that aren't coming apart at the seams."

They shared another laugh together. It felt good, and did a lot more to bring them close than their awkward apologies had.

When they quieted, they heard a particularly loud scene from the movie they were playing.

"Aw, we're missing the good part!" Buttercup moaned. And with that, they returned to the couch to finish watching it.


	7. Blood Curse

Chapter 7  
[Blood Curse]

The next day, the Utonium family gathered in the lab. Bubbles lay stretched out on her gurney. Professor gave his girls a smile and a comforting look before giving Bubbles her Antidote X injection.

After setting the needle aside, Professor quickly grasped Bubbles's hand in her own and leaned over, staring down at her. Her eyes slowly blinked open.

Those two beautiful blue eyes seemed to almost glow with warmth and kindness when they finally focused on his.

Then Bubbles seemed to realize this wasn't an everyday situation. Her eyes widened and she sat bolt upright, Professor pulling his head back to avoid a collision.

The force of Bubbles sitting up seemed to upset something in the elevated gurney, which collapsed almost to the floor with a metallic clank.

For Bubbles, the brief fall wasn't threatening as much as surprising. But it did leave her with a feeling, an urge that said "wake up." She wasn't sure why—she didn't even feel sleepy.

Craning her head to look up at Professor, she spotted her surprised sisters standing nearby. Professor seemed to be staring at them rather than Bubbles herself.

"What's going on?" Bubbles asked. "Why are we back on Earth?"

Professor turned again to look at her. The warm smile she'd seen when she woke was gone. He instead seemed flustered and uncertain. Preoccupied. "Um... Oh. Yes. You see, about that—"

"We'll fill you in," Blossom said. "Suffice it to say, we hit a rough patch, but it seems like everything is going to be okay again."

"Yes," Professor said, distantly. "Yes. Everything will be okay."

Blossom did indeed take the lead in the explanations. A few times, however, Professor interjected to elaborate or repeat something, making sure Bubbles said she understood. She seemed to be fit and well, aside from her memory loss. Her memories seemed to end at the same time as Blossom and Buttercup.

"So, Professor," Blossom asked at the end of the spiel. "When are you going to fill us in on the weeks after Buttercup's accident?"

"Oh, soon enough, I'm sure. Maybe it's best to wait and see if those memories return on their own, or perhaps even after your powers are fully restored."

"Yeah!" Buttercup interjected. Bubbles was glad to see Buttercup's near-fatal accident hadn't dulled her fire any. "When are we gonna get our powers back?"

Professor smiled wryly at Buttercup. "Well, we could give it another try again today, if you want. Worst case, your body will lose all its progress again and you'll be on par with Bubbles."

Blossom interrupted. "Professor? You said you were going to do some blood work last time. Did you gain any insight into our situation?"

"I'm afraid not, sweetie. It did give me some ideas, however. I've been preparing some tests I can run on a daily basis to monitor everyone's recovery without risking that we induce the coma again."

Bubbles finally spoke up again. "So, if we're not going to school or fighting crime, what are we gonna do, then?"

Buttercup rolled her eyes and pouted. Blossom smiled down at Bubbles, reaching out her hand to invite her up off the gurney. "Well, we get to hang out, play board games, and generally just enjoy ourselves. I bet you'll have a great time."

Bubbles smiled back, and as she rose to her feet let her momentum carry her forward, embracing Blossom. "That sounds awesome! I get to spend some quality time with my favorite sisters."

Buttercup watched the two of them, eyes flicking back and forth awkwardly. Bubbles thought her look said, "I feel out of place." Still, not one to turn down an opportunity to show the oft-reserved Buttercup some affection, she stepped over to give her a hug as well.

Though Bubbles couldn't see this, Blossom did note Buttercup's closed eyes and warm smile, almost like she was basking in warm sunlight on a breezy autumn day. Maybe everything was for the best in the end, if it made Buttercup come out of her shell a little and appreciate her family.

Professor said, "Well, I don't want to get in the way of your reunion. Why don't you all head upstairs while I clean up down here?"

Bubbles objected. "What do you mean, 'get in the way?'" Striding over to give him his long-overdue hug, she added, "This must mean more to you than anyone."

Professor returned her hug and then some, lifting her a few inches off the ground and swaying back and forth. He made exaggerated sounds of happiness as he did so, and Bubbles giggled. As big as the girls were getting, it was harder and harder to pull stunts like that. He seemed to handle her weight well enough, though.

Setting her back down, he admitted, "All right, you're right. Just give me a few minutes to compose myself. Why don't you and your sisters decide what we should have for lunch?"

Blossom accepted. "Sure thing, Professor. C'mon, girls!"

Together, the three of them plodded up the stairs, striking up conversation and making remarks about everything and about nothing in particular. Even Buttercup joined in, creating a small circle of banter that Bubbles had rarely been able to enjoy.

Professor took well more than a few minutes to come up the stairs, but Bubbles hardly noticed. Not long after finishing up lunch, he again excused himself to work in the lab, and Bubbles was okay with that.

She couldn't remember the last time she and her sisters had just casually hung out together and enjoyed moments like this. These days it always seemed to be a big to-do. Bubbles usually felt like she'd pulled Blossom away from a busy schedule, and it was a fight to pull Buttercup away from comic books and video games. This, however, was almost like when they were kids again.

Bubbles hardly cared about her lost memories. From the sounds of it, it probably wasn't a happy time for her anyway. This time, right here and now, and everything that she'd gained more than outweighed anything she might have lost.

Despite, in a way, being a newcomer to this social circle, Bubbles unconsciously found herself being the driving force. Suggesting games to play, things to do, and even stirring up conversation sometimes. Force of habit.

Except, instead of struggling to squeeze in whatever activities she could before her sisters found reasons to excuse themselves, the day just kept on going. Even after taking a break for supper, neither of her sisters took the obvious excuse to call it a day. Professor had even avoided breaking up their quality time by suggesting they could skip tonight's checkup while he finished working on his new procedures.

"So, what should we do now?" asked Buttercup, of all people.

"I know," Bubbles said. "Why don't we watch a movie?"

Blossom and Buttercup exchanged a glance. They seemed to be sharing glances a lot. In general, their relationship today seemed more playful and easygoing than Bubbles had seen since...well, since ever. Even their sense of competition was lighthearted. A pleasant contrast to the argumentative, antagonistic conduct to which she was more accustomed.

"We haven't done that yet today," Blossom admitted.

"Sounds all right," Buttercup agreed.

The two of them turned to face Bubbles again. "Sure," Blossom said, as if Bubbles hadn't heard their exchange a moment ago.

"Great! Let's see what we've got!"

Bubbles shot out to the living room so fast one might wonder whether her powers were intact after all. Dropping to her hands and knees, she studied the movie collection shelved below the television. One brightly colored case in particular stood out to her.

"Konah Kids?" she asked nobody in particular. "Since when did we get this on disc?"

After a moment, and possibly yet another shared glance, Blossom said, "No idea. Did you just forget about it?"

"No," Bubbles said with confidence, picking up the case and standing. "We haven't watched this since we were, like, five. That was on an old tape, even."

"Maybe we bought it after Buttercup's accident?" Blossom suggested.

"I don't know," Bubbles said softly. Finally tearing her gaze away from the case, she looked up at her sisters and said, "But I do know this means we can watch it again? What do you say?"

Once again, Blossom and Buttercup turned to each other. Bubbles still thought it was cute, but was now realizing that it was more like Buttercup looking at Blossom, almost seeking permission or guidance. Blossom just seemed to have grown so used to spotting that movement out of the corner of her eye and responding to it. It was hard to tell that Blossom was still just reacting.

"Sure," Blossom said. "Let's give it a shot."

Only a few minutes in, they were deeply regretting it. While they liked it as small children, it just hadn't aged well for them. A few more awkward minutes passed as they each gently hinted at their lack of enjoyment, not wanting to hurt any feelings. Soon after, they were making more cutting remarks, and then agreed these were memories best left buried.

Buttercup hopped up from her spot in the middle of the couch, eagerly ejecting the disc and setting it beside the television. Of course, the case was sitting practically right beside it, and she could have even put it all back on the shelf with hardly a few seconds work. Apparently Buttercup's messy habits hadn't changed.

Bubbles smiled softly at this, and moreso as Buttercup looked through the movie collection. Her eagerness had gone beyond refreshing. It was almost... Almost better than Buttercup.

Bubbles's smile rapidly chipped away as her face twitched, bit by bit, into an expression of confusion. Bringing up one finger, then the other, she closed and swiped at each eye. Calling it tears would have been an exaggeration, but there was moisture she hadn't expected. A feeling of loss she couldn't really explain.

But then the couch shook as Buttercup bounced heavily back into the middle spot, and Bubbles's train of thought was lost. She put those thoughts and feelings out of her mind, and quickly forgot them entirely.

After finishing Buttercup's action movie, Bubbles tried her hand at picking another movie. A cheesy romantic comedy that, nevertheless, was Oscar-worthy compared to Konah Kids.

Partway through, Buttercup stretched out and lay on her side, resting her head on Blossom's lap. Bubbles turned to watch the exchange.

"Do you mind?" Buttercup asked.

Blossom stared down in silence, smiling softly. She gently nodded her head in acceptance.

Buttercup smiled back and twisted, adjusting to a more comfortable position. Bubbles smiled as well, reaching out for Buttercup's foot.

"You better not tickle me," Buttercup warned without taking her eyes off the television.

Even though the warning carried no threat of reprisal in its tone, Bubbles didn't tickle her sister's foot. Instead she pulled it onto her lap and gently massaged it before doing the same to the other.

Absently. Quietly. Casually. They just sat together and enjoyed the movie, and each other's company. Bubbles did her best to not think too hard about it, afraid that under close scrutiny everything would scatter and fade away like a dream.

But all things, good and bad, come to an end. Two after-dinner movies proved enough, and as the closing credits rolled Blossom said, "Well, I don't know about you girls, but I'm getting tired. You can keep going if you want, but I'm going to call it a night."

While Blossom stood, Buttercup pivoted back to a sitting position, withdrawing her head and feet from her sisters' laps as she did so. "Yeah. Me, too." Giving Bubbles a playful, halfhearted punch on her arm, she added, "Good to have you back."

Stretching so hard she could barely speak, Blossom suggested, "Maybe we should ask Professor for some workout videos." Lowering her arms, she continued speaking normally. "If we're going to be cooped up in here for much longer, we should really try to stay in shape."

Buttercup shrugged. "Whatever you say. Later." She strode up the stairs and whisked passed the upper balcony on the way to her room.

Blossom finished stretching out her arms and shoulders before offering her own parting "Good night" and retreating to her room nearby.

Bubbles sighed, a sound of mixed weariness and contentedness. Today had been nice, but maybe tomorrow she'd pace herself to avoid burning out.

Dropping to her knees in front of the television, she picked up the Konah Kids disc and snapped it back into its case.

A tiny triangle of white caught her eye. So small she almost didn't even notice. Inside the case, a glossy paper was tucked into the cover. This wasn't unusual or interesting, but a small triangle of plain paper peeked out from behind it.

She extracted the glossy paper from the case and folded it open. There was a piece of notebook paper inside, one corner folded over the edge of the glossy paper. Just enough to reveal its presence. There seemed to be writing on the other side, something red and smudged.

Bubbles picked up the paper and flipped it over. It was just three letters, written in red marker.

"YOU"

Bubbles felt a tingle in her spine that almost made her shudder. The letters were sharp, straight lines without curves. As if written with an instrument that didn't allow for gentle curves. In places, the red was smudged, as if someone quickly rubbed a line here and there before the ink dried.

It was a little creepy, but meaningless. She'd been startled to see it, but had no idea where it might have come from.

She tucked the whole works back in the case, as she'd found it. After returning this and their other movies back to their shelf, she mounted the stairs and slunk off to her room.

Dressing down and into her nightgown, she opened her curtains a bit to let the sad, orange glow of the streetlights into her room. Today had been a good day, she mused as she plopped into her bed and drew up her covers. She couldn't remember having a day like this in a long time, and she was certain it wasn't because of any lost memories along the way.

If the coming days would be like this, she was sure she'd enjoy every one of them. She hadn't been this close to her family, to her sisters, in a long time.

So why, if her sisters were so close by, did her room seem so empty, as if they were miles away? Why, if they'd enjoyed so much togetherness, did she suddenly feel so alone?

Bubbles's bed, which had once housed the three of them, was the biggest amongst her sisters. She reached out to the empty spot beside her, running her fingertips along the cool, empty sheets. Bubbles was more social than her sisters, but given the way even other kids tended to treat them as monuments and celebrities, Bubbles was hard pressed to say any of them were good friends.

All the most important people in Bubbles's world were right here. But, still, it felt like something very important was missing.

As she struggled to figure out what, sleep slowly drifted over her.


	8. Happy Little Monster

Chapter 8  
[Happy Little Monster]

Buttercup stirred from sleep at the sound of Bubbles's bedroom door closing. The sun had risen, but Buttercup still took time to lounge and wake up peacefully.

After getting dressed and giving her hair a quick brushing, she trotted downstairs as well. She met her sister in the kitchen, sitting alone at the table, her cereal nearly finished.

"Morning," Buttercup said hoarsely. They smiled at each other, and Bubbles nodded at the table.

Buttercup noticed, in addition to her own bowl of cereal, another had been set out. After an expression of surprise and curiosity passed over her, she looked at Bubbles and smiled more strongly.

"Just like old times," Buttercup said as she sat in front of the other bowl. Sometimes, on school mornings, Bubbles would pour Buttercup's cereal before she woke up. Buttercup liked her cereal mostly soggy, with just a hint of crispness. Downing a spoonful, she sighed contentedly. Just how she liked it.

Drinking the last of the milk in her bowl, Bubbles said, "I wasn't even sure if you'd be up this early or not. Have you seen Blossom yet?"

Buttercup paused, savoring her second spoonful longer than was her practice. Ignoring Bubbles's question for a moment, she suddenly downed a third. Then a fourth. Struggling to find something that was almost, but not quite in focus in her mind. Something stirred up by her breakfast. Before long, she'd finished the bowl, having downed spoonful after spoonful as if she were ravenously hungry.

Looking with some surprise at the empty bowl, what she had been seeking still eluded her.

Remembering Bubbles, she finally looked up at her again. Bubbles was smiling sweetly.

"More?" she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she reached for the box of cereal and began to tip it.

Buttercup raised her hand to stop the box. "No, thanks," she said. Her expression was vacant, focused on nothing on particular. A faint sensation like buzzing or droning in her head slowly faded away, and her focus returned to Bubbles. "So, how have you been feeling? Do you remember anything after the accident? Or anything about this whack-job that almost killed you?"

Bubbles waxed thoughtful for a moment, but shook her head. Setting the cereal back on the table, she replied, "Not really. Have you been feeling okay?"

"Of course."

"That's good. You know, you've been acting extra friendly. I kind of like it."

Buttercup scowled. "Whaddaya mean?"

"Oh, nothing," Bubbles said sweetly. She rose and took her and Buttercup's bowls to the sink to rinse them out.

"C'mon, spill it. You think I'm acting funny or something?"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't tease." Returning to Buttercup she wrapped her arms around her seated sister from behind, giving a kiss to the top of her head before resting her cheek on it. She rocked back and forth gently as one would a baby.

"I still don't think there's nothin' different about me," Buttercup pouted.

"Oh, really? Since when do you let me do stuff like this to do without whining? Or cozy up on Blossom's lap?"

"Hey, I just wanted to lay down! Besides," she added, pausing only to gently push away Bubbles's arms and cause her to back off. "This is different. The two of you always reminded me of school and work before. The only peace and quiet I could ever count on was by myself."

At least, she thought, that made sense enough. She was just making it up as she went along, but it seemed like a good enough explanation. Besides, Buttercup knew darned well who she was, and didn't take kindly to someone questioning that.

* * *

Downstairs, in the inner part of the lab, a keyboard softly clacked away as Professor jotted down a note in one file before returning to another.

"That so? I just thought you were antisocial," Bubbles's voice played in Professor's small room. It sounded somewhat muted, but still audible over the clacking of the keyboard. "You don't really even have many friends at school."

"Neither do you or Blossom. I just don't waste my time pretending I have friends, that's all. But, hey, if that makes you feel better about yourselves, then more power to ya, sister."

A nearby monitor glowed mostly blue and black. Some kind of heat map. One red-and-yellow blob separated into two. A vaguely humanoid shape walked from the left side of the screen to the right as Buttercup peered out the kitchen window. "I bet none of 'em even miss you," her muffled voice claimed.

Bubbles's blob leaned against the wall and crossed its arms. "Well, that's kind of unfair, considering they think we've been dead the last three years. People are supposed to move on, you know."

A third monitor showed of mosaic of similar thermal video feeds from throughout the house. One tiny square mirrored the output of the kitchen scene. Another showed a third heat blob stirring as Blossom slipped out of bed. As her sisters' conversation continued, the tiny form moved about her room as she dressed and preened.

Professor paused to review his notes so far, half paying attention to the conversation. Things were going so smoothly. Everything these last few days, almost without exception, was exactly as he would have hoped.

* * *

Day 7, pre-morning

Arose early to monitor breakfast. No unusual activity in the night.

Gave further thought to the collapse of Bubbles's gurney yesterday morning. It's almost impossible to make out fine detail on the thermal cameras, but I nevertheless admit I have no cause to suspect tampering caused the collapse. Just to be safe, I'll put this one in storage and bring out my spare. Although, I admit, I have hopes it will not be needed. In any case, the separate arm cuffs are reminiscent of something one would use for a mental patient, and perhaps too unnerving. I should consider procuring a new replacement, if it should turn out the gurneys are required again in the future.

Their behavior seems well within expectations, and I fear my measures border on paranoia more than prudence. I suspect my bias is clouding my judgment, as from an objective standpoint there's little cause for concern.

Aside from the single, minor data point from Blossom, everything is fine. The girls appear to have no memory beyond the accident, and are exhibiting no signs of either depression, relief, hostility, or fear. Their comments to me suggest they are eager to return to their lives, and it is with great relief I admit I'm excited to see them do so. I believe a few days' time will be sufficient.

I will discuss this with the girls over this morning's examinations, and must remember to alert Sara as a courtesy.

This will require discussing the forgotten events. I plan to reveal some details individually during this morning's examinations, then have a family meeting.


	9. Drowned Hope

Chapter 9  
[Drowned Hope]

"You mean in less than a week I'll have my powers back? Aw yeah!" Buttercup hopped up from the counter and did a little jig in her excitement. Professor smiled at her and waited to catch her gaze.

"But first, there are some things you girls will need to hear about before you leave the house. About the lost time."

"But I thought you said we should wait and see if our powers make those memories come back."

"To a degree, but there are things...things you and your sisters will learn, that are public knowledge already."

"Okay..."

"But, for now, I'd like for you to wait in the side room over there. The inner lab. It's soundproof and...well, even if you girls had your powers back you couldn't see through it. I want you to wait there while I finish your sisters' morning examinations. Try not to mess with things too much, but I want you to see that, with you and your sisters out of that room and awakened, there's nothing interesting in there anymore. Do you understand?"

"Sure, I guess. Why can't I just wait upstairs?"

"Because I want to speak to you girls individually, then as a group. Not that I don't trust you girls, but I want to be sure I have a chance to explain things before you talk amongst yourselves. I'll send Blossom in after you as soon as we're done, then after I finish with Bubbles the four of us will get together and talk things over."

"Why not just tell us all at once?"

"Because, Buttercup, some of these things may be more personal than others, and I want to give your sisters the choice of how much they feel comfortable with sharing."

"Gotcha. So, since I don't have any missing memories, should I just go and wait?"

"Pretty much."

* * *

In no time at all, Buttercup was bored. She guessed the password to her dad's computer easily enough. The Internet was still down, and there was a bunch of boring lab stuff. With all those monitors hooked up, it seemed a shame to not play an awesome video game on it. She passed the time in a simple drawing program, though one could hardly call the end result "art."

She turned her head when Blossom stepped into the room. She seemed lost deep in thought as she closed the door behind her. There was a small hiss of air as the door sealed itself.

"So, how'd it go?" Buttercup asked. "Hello? Blossom? How'd it go?"

Blossom finally seemed to notice Buttercup. "Oh. Hi."

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"I said, 'How'd it go?'"

"Oh. Professor said we'd all talk when he finished with Bubbles."

"Yeah, I know. But what did you two talk about?"

"Professor said I shouldn't say anything until he has a chance to bring us together."

Buttercup rolled her eyes. "Of course. He trusts you not to blab to me, but shuts me up in a room and doesn't say anything."

Blossom's distant look vanished. She strode over to her sister and gave her a quick hug and a peck on the forehead. "Well, you know me. Little Miss By-the-book."

Standing close, face to face, Buttercup regarded her sister with soft adoration. "Have I been good?"

Blossom briefly furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"

"This last week. Have I been a good girl?"

Blossom smiled warmly, running her fingers through Buttercup's hair. "You've been a _very_ good girl. I'm very proud of you."

Buttercup looked away shyly. "Thanks," she said softly.

Blossom continued to slowly run her fingers through her sister's hair, feeling it slide between them. But, now, she couldn't help but wonder how much of her recent affection towards Buttercup had more to do with Ashley.

* * *

A short while before, Professor called Blossom down for her checkup, while Buttercup waited in the inner lab. He delivered the good news that he hoped to restore their powers within the week.

Blossom stared at a corner while reciting a mental checklist. "We'll have to alert Ms. Bellum and the mayor. If the school year's not over, we'll want to make it official whether we're going to attend or not. We should at least consider preparing some kind of statement or explanation, but I could see some merit to giving people a day or two to get used to the idea of us being back before we really make our presence known."

"Yes," Professor agreed. "There's a lot to do before we restore your powers, but first, there are a few things I'd like to discuss about your lost time. Things that are public knowledge, and I'd rather you hear from me first. I don't want you to speak a word of this to Buttercup or Bubbles until I sit the three of you down later this morning. Do you understand?"

"Certainly. Is there something you want me to keep secret?"

"It's more that there are some things you might consider...personal. I'll leave it to your discretion whether to share them with your sisters or not." Professor took a deep breath to steady himself.

"You see, after Buttercup's accident, you became very sullen and withdrawn. I think you might have put a lot of the blame on your shoulders. And, now, remember that Buttercup was still in her coma and showing no signs of recovery. We'd told the world she was dead, and we all really thought we'd never, ever see her again. Do you understand?"

Blossom nodded.

"You created another sister. Secretly, without discussing it with us first."

"I did? Another... Oh, like Bunny?"

"No. No, much more well-made. On the surface, there was nothing wrong with her. You named her Ashley, and she looked up to you as if you were her mother. It's possible that your desire to spend the night with Buttercup was a lingering, misplaced affection for your lost daughter Ashley. Do you understand?"

"I...maybe. 'Ashley?'"

"That's correct. On the surface, she looked like Buttercup, except six years younger. As she did when you girls were created. But Ashley was not Buttercup, and Buttercup is not Ashley. Do you understand?"

She nodded.

"Ashley passed away. She was unstable as well, and losing her was very, very hard on you. In response, you apparently vented your frustration in the laboratory and came into contact with some extremely dangerous power conduits."

"How...how did she die?"

"It's a little more complicated than that, but we'll discuss that as a group later. But her death, as far as anyone knows, was due to simple chemical instability. She left us painlessly, quietly, and quickly. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Blossom said distantly. This was quite a lot to take in.

"Now, if you have any pressing questions, we can go over those now. Otherwise, you can join Buttercup in the side room over there. We can discuss anything you want later. Is that okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, sure." Blossom stood up, though her mind was clearly somewhere far away. "I'll just go wait for now. Thank you, Professor."

* * *

"Aw, man," Bubbles sulked. "I was really enjoying all this family time, too. Do you think we can still have a family day, sometime? Just the four of us? I know you've been real busy in the lab, but maybe once we get our powers back you'd be able to come to the beach with us or something?"

Professor smiled. "We'll see, honey. But first, you girls need to hear some things about your missing time. Public things, that I'd rather you hear from me than anyone else. In a moment, the four of us will have a little family meeting, but before that I want you to hear about some things pertaining especially to you."

"To me?"

"That's right. It's up to you whether to share these with your sisters or not. They're not big secrets, but since this was part of your life I want that choice to be yours. Now, shortly before Blossom's accident, you were seriously injured as well. You remained conscious, but your right eye was badly hurt in a fight with Mojo Jojo. You're clearly all better now, but for a time you were blind in that eye. Do you remember any of that?"

"Nuh-uh," Bubbles replied, shaking her head for emphasis. She softly bit her lip and held it as she continued listening.

"You also made a new friend after Blossom went to sleep."

Now she perked up. "Oh? Who was it? I hope they don't mind that I don't remember."

Professor rested his hand on her knee. "I'm afraid I have some bad news to go along with the good. Remember the Harvester I mentioned?"

She nodded.

"Your new friend was one his victims as well. I'm sorry."

"That's sad," Bubbles said, resting her hand on her father's. "Lost her before I even got to know her."

"'Her?'" Professor asked, gauging her response.

Bubbles's face opened up in surprise, then she giggled and smiled. "You mean it was a boy?" She gasped. "Did I have a boyfriend?"

Professor laughed and shook his head. "No, no. I was just wondering if any of this was jogging your memory."

"Nope. So what was she like?"

"Well, this may be surprising, but you actually became really good friend with Princess Morbucks."

"Oh. Princess? That makes sense, I guess."

Professor furrowed his brow. "It does?"

"Well, I don't remember really liking her all that much or anything, but she hasn't been causing as much trouble as she used to." Bubbles giggled. "You know, if you look at it differently, we were almost playmates as much as enemies. If she thought my sisters were dead—she did, right? Nobody knew the truth?"

"Nobody. Nobody except Sara."

"Then maybe it was kind of weird for her to lose them. Maybe I even felt bad for keeping it a secret from her. It's still kind of sad. I guess I'll never know what she was really like."

Professor smiled. "I'm very sorry about that, sweetie. I really am."

"It's okay, I guess. Maybe I'll remember her eventually. It'll probably be sadder when I do, but I'd rather have that than to never, ever remember her."

"I'll discuss this shortly, but at least the Harvester was eventually stopped. Princess's father moved away more than a year ago, but he still flies out to visit me occasionally."

"Oh? You're friends, now?"

"Sort of. More like fathers commiserating over a shared loss. It's a shame that there's no bringing back his daughter. In any case, Princess's death spurred you on to action against the Harvester. You were part of a plan, along with Sedusa and E-Male, to draw him out and capture him. But we can talk about that with everyone else. Do you have any other questions for me right this moment?"

Bubbles shook her head.

"All right. You can talk with me about anything whenever you want. And if you begin to remember anything, anything at all, please let me know right away. Do you understand?"

"Yup. Will do, Professor."

"Great. Please, fetch your sisters from the side room and meet me upstairs."

Bubbles opened the door to see Buttercup hunched forward, sitting at a table. Blossom stood behind, gently massaging her sister's shoulders. Buttercup's hair looked slightly a tussle.

"Professor wants to see us upstairs."


	10. Color Etereo

Chapter 10  
[Color Etereo]

Professor waited for his girls in the kitchen, inviting them to sit at the table.

"First, let me say how relieved I am to get some of these things off my chest, and how sad I am to have to share them with you girls. These were not happy times in our lives, as you'll see. But the good news is it's all behind us, and in all honesty it might not be a bad thing at all if these memories never come back.

"Shortly after our return home, I made arrangements with Ms. Bellum to hold a memorial service for Buttercup. We told the world she'd died while we were away. Even the aliens that brought her back with us believed she was dead, because her vital signs were so faint. By the time we returned, we'd given up hope of even highly advanced medicine being of any help. There were even times—God help us, there were times we considered giving up. Considered that a life like that was really no life at all. But, thankfully, we persevered, and we're all together today because of that.

"There was an addition to our family that none of you remember. I wish I could show you a photograph, but none were taken during her short, short life. Her name was Ashley Utonium, and Blossom was the one who created and named her."

"Another sister?" Bubbles asked.

"That's right. She was much more well-made, but ultimately unstable. She strongly resembled Buttercup, at least physically. But Ashley and Buttercup are two very separate people. Do you understand? Ashley, when she was first created, looked exactly the same as the girl sitting with us today—Buttercup—did when she was first created. Ashley even mistook Buttercup for herself in a family photo. But Ashley was a different person, and is gone now.

"More unfortunate than her passing are the events leading up to and following it." Nodding at Blossom, he said, "When you and Bubbles took her out for her very first patrol, she seriously injured a man. She didn't lose her temper or anything, but she... Well, the man died from his injuries. It was all very shocking."

Professor paused to let it sink in. Nobody used the opportunity to ask questions. Bubbles and Blossom stared intently at him, while Buttercup stared at the floor, concentrating intensely.

Avoiding Blossom and Bubbles' gazes, Professor watched Buttercup. "Shortly after his death, we lost Ashley. Shortly after that, Bubbles was hospitalized with a serious injury to her eye."

Buttercup looked up now. Professor swept his gaze between his daughters as he continued. "The Association was still helping protect the city at the time, while we recovered from our ordeals, but Mojo Jojo proved a handful for E-Male and then for Bubbles. From then until her healing coma, Bubbles was blinded in that eye. The combined strain of everything hit Blossom very hard, and she had her accident in the lab."

"A 'handful' for E-Male and Bubbles?" Blossom asked. "Where was I when this was happening?"

"You were in your room, grieving for Ashley."

"So...I probably blamed myself for not being there to help, didn't I?"

Bubbles scooted her chair over and wrapped an arm around Blossom. "You tend to do that sometimes. For what it's worth, I don't hold it against you."

Blossom smiled and put her hand on Bubbles's, still resting on her shoulder. It was small comfort, but comfort all the same.

"In any case, in the weeks that followed it became apparent there was a new face in town."

"The Harvester." Blossom declared.

"That's right. Seems a shipment of chemicals and fertilizer got swapped around, and a local farmer had an unexpected reaction to a spill. He declared a murderous vendetta against those he perceived as criminals, as well as against the heroes who failed to 'take care of business' his way. The Harvester's earliest victims included a number of those...familiar to you. He did murder a number of ordinary citizens as well, but you'll have to understand the world out there is going to be a little different when you see it. The Harvester was stopped and, unfortunately, killed as well.

"His earliest victim was believed to be Mojo Jojo."

"What?" the girls asked in unison.

Blossom then spoke alone. "You mean Mojo Jojo is..."

"Dead?" Buttercup asked.

Bubbles's hand was pressed over her mouth, eyes wide in quiet shock.

"That's right. Along with most of the Gangreen Gang, save for Little Arturo. Fuzzy Lumpkins hasn't been seen in years." With a warning glance at Bubbles, who was still reeling, Professor added, "Princess Morbucks passed as well. At the very end, a plan was concocted that involved Bubbles, E-Male, and even Sedusa acting as bait. We drew the Harvester out, and he proved a very difficult adversary. Both Sedusa and E-Mail were killed, and though we managed to put a stop to him in the end, Bubbles passed out from blood loss and entered a healing coma as well."

"That's awful," Bubbles said, beginning to cry. "All those people."

"I have something to show you girls as well. Buttercup, down in the inner lab, the top drawer to the right of my computer? There's a movie disc there. I'd like you to bring it up to the living room for us."

Buttercup nodded and hopped up to do just that. The drawer in question was empty, except for a little paper envelope holding the disc. She strode into the living room and put it in the player. Professor stood nearby with the remote in his hand while the girls sat on the couch.

"You're welcome to watch all of this if you'd like, but it's mostly just boring speeches." Professor fast forwarded his way through various people taking turns at a podium. "This is a recording of Blossom's memorial service, which was broadcast all over the world. I excused myself from Bubbles's, but I have recordings of that as well, along with Buttercup's. What I really want you to see, is this."

"Hello," Bubbles said into the microphone. She wore a black dress, complete with a wide-brimmed black hat and black veil.

Bubbles smiled and lifted her veil over the brim of her hat to show her face. Some people in the audience gasped or whispered at the sight of the white bandages covering her right eye.

"Thank you so much for being here. I know there are a lot of you who wish you could be here too, but don't worry. I know you care, and it doesn't matter how far away you are. I'm really grateful for your support.

"I've...I've gotten a lot of support over the years. From you. From friends. From family." Bubbles shakily drew in a deep breath and sighed. "You almost lost me, too. I got hurt pretty bad, but if I were just a little slower, I might not be here today. I have to thank Blossom for helping me be more quick-thinking. And if not for Buttercup pushing me to be tougher, I might not have had the strength to push through the pain."

Her smile wavered visibly. "My sisters were wonderful, awesome people. I think I'm really a better person because of them. I really want to think that by following their example, even now that they're gone, that I'll keep getting stronger. I promise I'll do my best to save the world again someday.

"But right now I need time to get healthy and grow up a little. My life is going to be really, really different with all of them gone, and I don't know how long it'll take to get used to that."

Here her smile's valiant efforts to remain strong fell short. Tears started to well up in her eye as she continued, her voice growing ever hoarser. "Blossom's never going to give my any more advice. I'll never get another noogie from Buttercup. She'll never push me away when I try to hug her or call me a crybaby or try to show off. Blossom's never gonna tell me what to do or brush my hair or..." At this point, her words were incomprehensible, turning into whining as her throat became ever tighter.

In the video, Professor strode over to the podium, kneeling beside Bubbles and whispering into her ear before taking her hand and walking away.

Back in the living room, present-day Professor paused the recording.

"As you can see, this pain and these losses were very real to everyone, including ourselves. I've tried to shield the gravity of the situation from you girls to avoid worrying you, but in truth it's nothing less than a miracle that you are all alive and well today. We can't say for sure whether we can even rely on these healing comas again, and I certainly wouldn't recommend getting reckless."

"It's all my fault." Buttercup's voice was tight and high-pitched. "If I hadn't been so stupid..."

"Shh, shh, shh," Blossom said, sliding to press against her sister's side and wrap her arm around. "Don't say that. We're just glad you're okay."

Buttercup sat up, leaving her sister's embrace. She tromped loudly up the stairs, slamming her bedroom door.


	11. Regression

Chapter 11  
[Regression]

Buttercup had cried into her pillow for longer than she cared to think about. After, she was too embarrassed to come out.

She poked through her room. The last week, she'd spent so much time out of her room that she'd only come here to sleep. In the bottom drawer of her dresser she found stacks upon stacks of comic books. It was almost a wonder they all fit in there. She smiled to herself, remembering how much she enjoyed just lounging in her room reading comics. That is, when she wasn't fighting or training.

She fingered through them, looking for something to catch her attention. Nothing did.

In fact, she barely recognized any of these titles. Of course, she remembered Spore. She was really into that when she was younger. As her comic habit had grown, her sisters knew less and less of what she was into.

No wonder, she mused, given that even she had apparently forgotten most of these. One series in particular, Consortium of Justice, she seemed to have in droves. But what was it about? Who were the heroes? Who were the villains?

Her breath quickened slightly as her heart did likewise. Why had she forgotten something that had apparently been such a big part of her life? Was there something wrong with her?

 _Get a grip_ , she thought. She took a few deep breaths to steady herself. She must've just grown out of them, that's all. _Go through the motions_ , she thought. _Go through the motions._ The mantra was somehow comforting.

She looked for the oldest issue of Consortium she could find and carried it to her bed. She didn't understand everything that was going on, but it certainly held her attention. She devoured it, then spent the better part of ten minutes trying to find the next in the haphazard pile in her dresser drawer. After struggling to find the third issue as well, she pulled everything out of her drawer and began to sort through it.

She was startled by the knock at her door. "Buttercup? We're having macaroni and cheese for lunch," Bubbles called softly.

"Would you please come and join us? Pretty please with sugar on top?" Blossom urged as well.

"Maybe later," Buttercup called out. "I'm... I'm cleaning my room!"

Blossom called back. "Okay, but Professor said you have to eat dinner with us later. Absolutely no excuses."

Buttercup grunted. "Fine! Dinner, then."

Buttercup resumed her work, focusing especially on her Consortium comics. She noticed a few missing issues, and decided to look around her room. There was a box of comics in her closet, and she realized a second dresser drawer was almost half as bad as the first.

As her collection slowly became more and more organized, she began to wonder. Looking more closely at the issue dates, she realized that she'd been collecting Consortium of Justice, among other things, in the months leading right up to the accident. So much for assuming she'd grown out of it long ago.

Deciding she could worry about that later, she continued reading. She was going to see Professor for her examination tonight, anyway. She could mention it then.

The sky outside grew darker as rain clouds gathered. It was going to be another stormy spring afternoon.

Eventually, as rain pattered against her window, it started to grow dark enough to require a light. She rolled over and flicked the switch of her nightstand lamp. It didn't turn on. She noticed the light on her surge protector was off, but didn't think that would matter.

Given the work Professor did in the lab sometimes, her family made a point of plugging all appliances into some kind of surge protector or line conditioner. Appliances, sure, but not lamps. Glancing at her alarm clock, she confirmed it was still on. Strange, since it should have been plugged into the surge protector, which was apparently off.

Buttercup set down her comic and gently pulled the cords to confirm her suspicion. Her alarm clock was plugged directly into the wall, but her lamp was plugged into the surge protector. Which was switched off. It was all backwards, and generally just plain weird.

Frowning, Buttercup dropped to her knees and moved her alarm from the wall plate into an empty spot on the surge protector. Then she unplugged the lamp from the strip and—

Sparks flew from the wall when she plugged her lamp into the outlet. Gasping in surprise, she scrambled backwards, but the sparks stopped almost right away.

Buttercup sat for a moment, the smell of ozone and faint smoke rising from the outlet making it clear that she hadn't imagined it. Cautiously, she leaned forward. Acting as if the lamp cord were a venomous snake, she gingerly raised her hand. Quickly, she snatched and yanked it from the wall. It still felt warm. Very warm.

"Ah!" she cried, quickly rubbing her palm on her shirt. Some of the plastic around the lamp's cord had begun melting. "Shoot," she said, rising to her feet and jogging around her bed. "Shoot, shoot, shoot." She opened her door and started running down the stairs.

"Professor!" she called. "Professor!"

Her sisters turned to look behind the couch as she passed.

"He's in the lab," Blossom said.

"Is something the matter?" Bubbles asked.

"My lamp blew up," she said as she passed into the kitchen. "Profe—ssor." He was coming up from the lab as she entered. "I think you better check my room. My lamp shorted out or something."

Even as she spoke, he walked by. It was hard to tell if he noticed her at all, but he seemed to know where he was going. Buttercup turned around and followed him as he climbed up the stairs two at a time.

Pushing her door open and turning on the ceiling light like he owned the place—which, she guessed, he did—he walked around her bed to check the offending outlet. Char marks around the holes were the only visible evidence of damage there. He knelt down and gingerly picked up the unplugged lamp cord between his fingers, cool now.

"What is this?" he asked firmly, staring at the plug.

"My lamp. It got switched around with my alarm clock for some reason, so I—"

"What is this?" he repeated, pointing the plug at her. She climbed onto her bed, drawing closer to get a good look at it. A piece of wire had been wrapped around the two prongs, near the base. It must have been the cause of the short.

"I don't know," Buttercup said curiously. "I didn't notice that before. Is that why my surge protector was turned off?"

Frowning, Professor said nothing. Bubbles and Blossom had appeared at the open door to wonder what the fuss was about. Professor's eyes turned back to the outlet, then slid up along the wall, as if imagining the wiring behind it.

Without so much as an "excuse me," he again swooped around the bed and slipped out between Blossom and Bubbles. After the three exchanged glances, they followed along. Professor made his way down to the basement and opened the electrical box.

"Did it wreck something?" Buttercup asked.

Professor tapped his finger on a tripped breaker in the panel, but didn't reset it. "Why is this a 30 amp breaker?" he said to himself. After glancing around the box for a bit, he frowned more deeply and narrowed his eyes.

The girls jumped when he pounded his fist against the wall and shouted, "Damn her!"

"I'm sorry," Buttercup said, fighting back tears. "I didn't know the plug was messed up."

Professor snapped his head in her direction. Buttercup drew in a sharp breath in surprise.

His eyes fluttered, and he seemed to regain his composure.

"Oh. Oh, Buttercup. No."

She recoiled a little as he gave her a brief hug. "No, sweetie, not you. Not any of you. She's gone, now. Do you understand? Everything's fine." To Blossom, "Do you understand?" To Bubbles, "Do you understand?"

"She who?" Bubbles asked.

"Ashley?" Blossom suggested.

Professor looked at Blossom curiously. Then his gaze softened and he nodded his head. "Yes. Yes, Ashley. She, um... Did some strange things sometimes. She must have messed around with the cords in Buttercup's room."

He leaned over to kiss Buttercup's head. She bowed her head forward and squinched her eyes like she was about to get hit. "It's not your fault, Buttercup," he cooed in his softest, deepest voice. "You didn't do this. Everything's all right."

"It is? You forgive me?"

"Yes, sweetie. I forgive you." After a beat, he added, "For everything."

"Me, too," Bubbles said.

"And me," Blossom added.

"I'm still sorry," Buttercup said, still staring at the ground and failing to completely stem her tears.

"We know," Blossom said. "And we love you."

"Very much," Bubbles added.

"Very, very much," Professor joined in. Smiling gently, he said, "I'm sorry I got so upset. Somehow, this breaker got switched for one of the garage's. Your room doesn't have wires for that high amperage. We're lucky it didn't start a fire. We'll probably want to rewire it to be safe."

"I'm sorry," Buttercup said again, though she seemed more composed now.

"It's not your fault." After blowing out a deep breath and relaxing a bit, he suggested, "It's getting late. Why don't you girls start on supper and I'll see if I can dig up an electrical diagram. If you smell smoke or anything funny, let me know right away, but everything's probably fine now."

"Will do," Blossom said. "C'mon, girls, let's see what we can whip up." She wrapped her fingers around Buttercup's, at which she finally turned her gaze away from the floor. "Coming?"

Though Buttercup's smile was shaky, her nod was firm.

Professor closed the electrical box and walked deeper into the lab as the girls went back upstairs. He slipped into the inner lab and sat at his computer. Entering a different password than Buttercup had guessed earlier, a different set of documents appeared, and two of the monitors filled up with the mostly blue images from the thermal cameras.

The monitor showing the overview of all the video feeds in the house now had a single, conspicuous square of pure black.


	12. Only You

Chapter 12  
[Only You]

Buttercup still seemed a little out of sorts, but Blossom did her best to keep her occupied. Her sister was probably embarrassed; she never handled this kind of stuff well. Admitting fault wasn't easy for her, which is something Blossom could relate to.

She had Buttercup peeling, rinsing, and chopping potatoes, but made a point to keep her in conversation or loom over her shoulder and tell her how to do things. She must've been pretty cowed, because she didn't even lash out at Blossom's meddling, unnecessary advice on how to cut a potato.

"So what have you been up to all day? Still cleaning your room?"

"Reading Consortium of Justice."

"Ha!" Bubbles laughed, snorting and sniffling despite her gaiety. She was cutting onions and blinking away tears. "I knew it. I bet you didn't clean anything."

"Well, I couldn't find any of my comics at first."

Blossom asked, "Is that the one series you're always all excited about?"

"Umm... Maybe?"

Professor finally came up the stairs, giving each of his daughters a quick squeeze and peck on the cheek, but then sitting at the table and keeping to himself. He looked exhausted, and content to watch them work.

"What do you mean, 'maybe?'" Blossom asked. "Which series was your favorite, then?"

"I don't know."

Bubbles dabbed moisture from her eyes and prodded, "You know, the one you're always rushing off to buy the first of the month."

"I don't know," Buttercup said, sounding weary. Her tone turned gruffer as she continued. "I can't remember! I can't remember a single stupid comic up there except for Spore."

"Oh, I remember Spore," Bubbles said. "You kind of dressed up like him once, right?"

"Yeah, but I don't remember Consortium at all."

Professor did finally speak up. "I wouldn't worry about it. You've been preoccupied—and I have to admit, I can hardly remember any of my favorite childhood stories any more. I'm sure you have nothing to worry about."

"And you've been rereading it like it was all new, huh?" Blossom asked.

Buttercup nodded.

"Well, I envy you. I was looking through my books the other day for something to re-read, but I remembered everything too well to want to bother."

"Hmph," Professor puffed. He stroked his chin in quiet contemplation.

The girls transferred everything to the pot to let the potato soup simmer for a while. Blossom did her best to hold Buttercup's attention by instructing her to broil some slices of bread in the oven with cheese on top. Again, she dutifully followed Blossom's instructions without protest.

Dinner passed peacefully, and while Bubbles and Blossom worked on putting away leftovers and cleaning dishes, Buttercup asked to be excused.

"Aw, going back to your room?" Bubbles asked. "You know, I'm gonna miss you if you never come out again."

Buttercup smiled. "Well, it's just that the Mangulator kidnapped the Spire's widow, and the Consortium thinks the Spire is actually responsible—"

"Wait," Blossom interrupted. "If she's his widow, wouldn't he be dead? Why would they suspect him?"

"It's...complicated. Anyway, I just have to see how it turns out. I promise we can keep hanging out. After all, why wouldn't I want to spend time with my favorite sister?" Buttercup hugged Blossom who, though surprised at first, returned the gesture warmly.

"Hey!" Bubbles protested, though she didn't actually seem offended. "No fair picking favorites."

Buttercup let go of Blossom and smirked at Bubbles. "Well, then how about you get to be...second favorite?"

"What? Isn't that the only other option?"

Buttercup walked closer, and Bubbles raised her arms for her expected hug. Instead, Buttercup stared tickling her. Bubbles retreated until her back was literally against the wall, breathlessly begging Buttercup to stop between peals of laughter.

Buttercup eventually stopped, putting her palms on Bubbles's cheeks and leaning in to kiss her nose.

She then turned her attention to Professor, narrowing her gaze dangerously. She raised and waggled her fingers threateningly as she slowly crept closer.

"Oh, no," Professor said tiredly, waving his hands in front of him. "I'm too stuffed to be tickled."

"Aw," Buttercup said, drooping. "Well, I'll get you later. When you least expect it—bam!" She pounded her fist against her palm with a loud "smack!" "I'll be there."

Professor regarded her with a confident, "come and try it" look, but said nothing.

"All right. See you in the morning."

"Not so fast, Buttercup," Professor said.

Buttercup sighed. "Exam time?"

"Exam time," he confirmed.

With a plaintive moan, Buttercup trudged off to the basement, Professor right behind her. Having aired her comic concerns in the kitchen, in the end she had nothing different to report after all.

* * *

Later that night, Blossom had donned her nightgown and was getting ready to crawl into bed. She heard some quiet thumping from upstairs, but that wasn't unusual. Just the downside of people living above.

It did remind her about Buttercup, however, and she wanted to check in on her. Maybe by now most of the sting of everything earlier today had lessened. Blossom saw an opportunity to salvage and nurture the renewed camaraderie that she and her sisters had been sharing. That kind of trust and fellowship surely had to make them a stronger team.

Besides, it was important to her. Blossom had decided lost memories of Ashley weren't really clouding her judgment. Buttercup was her sister, and now that they were together again, she didn't want to lose that.

"Come in," Buttercup's voice came in response to her knock.

Blossom opened the door a crack and poked her head inside.

"All the way in," Buttercup clarified, tossing her comic aside and sitting up in her bed. She patted the spot next to her.

Blossom smiled. Even after days of such behavior, Buttercup's little friendly gestures continued to warm her heart.

Blossom sat down next to her, just a short distance away. "I just wanted to come see how you were doing."

"Thanks. I've been feeling better. So what do you think about the stuff Professor said? Remember any of it yet?"

Blossom shook her head, disappointment painted on her face. "Nope. Not my glum attitude, not Ashley—nothing."

"Do you miss her anyway?"

Blossom was taken aback. It was a simple question on the surface, but... "I don't know. Part of me wonders if that's why... Well, if that's why I've been spending so much time with you and wanted to sleep over the other night. But, don't worry, I feel one hundred percent confident that I'm not mixing anything up."

Buttercup became the image of shyness, barely able to look Blossom in the eye. "So you... You really want to spend time with me, too?"

"Well, what do you think I've been doing these last few days?"

Buttercup shrugged.

"You're not embarrassed, are you?" Blossom asked wryly.

Buttercup had no trouble looking her in the eye now. In fact, she was glaring. "Embarrassed? Why?"

Blossom briefly cocked an eyebrow, thinking the answer obvious. "Well, we know how you are."

"Hmph. I know that's what everyone expects. Heck, that's what _I_ expect. But I'm not. In fact, this all feels perfectly normal to me, so there."

"Well, nothing wrong with that. It's nice to see you so open and...well, cheerful. Not that anything was wrong before. I promise, I do and always will love the person you _are_ —whichever side of the bed she happens to wake up on."

Buttercup's eyelids fluttered. She sniffled, and asked in a small voice, "You love me?"

"Oh," Blossom said. She could almost feel her heart melting. "Oh, Buttercup." She pulled her sister in with a hug. "Of course I love you. It goes without saying."

"I love you, too," Buttercup said. "I don't care if it goes without saying; I'm saying it."

Blossom laughed and withdrew from the embrace. She clasped Buttercup's hands in hers. "I guess even when it goes without saying, it's still nice to hear."

Blossom wasn't really sure how to follow that up. Before the silence grew too awkward, she started gently rubbing Buttercup's hands, still clasped under her own.

Her eyes were drawn to their hands, and Blossom watched herself extract one of Buttercup's and sandwiched it flat between hers. It felt warm.

Slowly, carefully, Blossom rubbed her fingers against Buttercup's. They were soft, but firm, and strong. Graceful and gentle. She slowly spread Buttercup's fingers apart and continued to run hers through them.

She felt as if she could lose herself. For a time, she did, her mind drifting and riding along the same as her fingers were. Her skin was so smooth, with no trace of the hardships they'd faced over the years. Blossom reveled in the thought of that smoothness. Wanted to feel it with something more sensitive than her fingers. Slowly, without thinking, she raised her sister's hand to her mouth, brushing it against the soft, outer edge of her lip.

Her eyes caught Buttercup's. Her sister seemed a mixture of confused and curious, watching Blossom like she didn't understand what was happening, but trusted Blossom to explain.

The glance was enough to bring Blossom back down to reality. She looked down at Buttercup's hand, then set it down on her sister's lap before letting go.

"Sorry." Blossom said. She had nothing else to say. Had no idea what else she could have said.

Her sister filled the silence. "That was weird." Blossom couldn't tell if it was a statement or a question. Whether she was offended or curious.

"Yes, it was," Blossom said. "It won't happen again. I don't know what came over me."

Buttercup shrugged. "Whatever. The important thing is we're together now."

Blossom blinked several times, beginning to struggle with dry, sleepy eyes. Maybe she'd just sort-of, kind-of dozed off for a moment? She smiled wearily. "Yeah," she breathed. "Together."

"I'd like to go to bed now," Buttercup said. It was, as much as such as thing was possible, a pure and simple statement of fact. There were no undertones that said, "beat it, I'm tired." No veiled, "you're creeping me out and I want you gone."

"Oh? Well, then I'd better let you get to it."

"Would you tuck me in?"

Blossom furrowed her brow and cocked an eyebrow. "What? Seriously?"

Buttercup just looked up at her with expectant eyes.

"Okay," she agreed, standing up and pulling back the covers. "I thought you didn't want me to play mommy."

Buttercup, already in her nightgown, immediately slid underneath the covers and lay flat on her back. "I don't mind."

Blossom smiled, lost in aimless thought as she worked her way around the bed, tucking the covers under the mattress as she went and setting the forgotten comic on a nightstand. Finished, she looked up to see Buttercup watching her with warm, soft eyes.

"Do you want the light off?" Blossom asked. With all of Buttercup's outlets gone, she had resorted to the ceiling light for her reading.

"Yes, please."

Blossom's smile grew warmer, but as she turned she felt a pang. Something deep, somewhere in her heart. A flash of loss, of grief and absence, of guilt. She wasn't sure what it was or why she felt it. But she didn't dwell on it, as it didn't last long. After all, what was there to mourn?

Unable to turn around, she flicked off the light and said, "Good night, sweetie."

"G'night," Buttercup's voice rang from the dark behind her.

Blossom slipped out, back downstairs, and into her own bed. After she turned off her own light, she was once again met with the "we are not ourselves" scrawled on her headboard.

 _Whatever. We are who we are_ , she thought back in silent protest.

Sleep came quickly, and more peacefully than any she could remember.


	13. Uncertain Sympathy

Chapter 13  
[Uncertain Sympathy]

The girls sat in the living room, anxious. They were playing some dice-based board game that required no real thought or strategy. Between turns, Buttercup fiddled with a key in her hand. Professor had given it to her so she could open the door when—

They heard a knock.

After some quick glances, they clamored to their feet and ran to the door. Buttercup fumbled to put the key in the lock, and grew frustrated when it wouldn't turn. "It's not working!"

Bubbles cautioned, "Stop, you'll break it!"

"Let me try," Blossom insisted, having no better luck.

"You're doing it wrong," Buttercup accused.

"How many ways are there to do it?"

"I don't know," Buttercup snipped, "but you're doing all the wrong ones."

They heard another knock, more uncertain and softer than the last.

Bubbles said, "I'll go get—Professor!" She spotted him coming up the basement stairs. "We can't get the door open."

Professor seemed unphased, smiling pleasantly as he strolled over. "Let's take a look at that key." He held it up to the light and very briefly examined its teeth. "Oh, silly me. That's our old house key. I'm sorry girls, let me get that."

Another knock, firm again.

"I'll be right there, Sara." Professor pocketed the offending key in his lab coat and pulled his own set of keys from his pocket.

"Technical difficulties?" Ms. Bellum asked as soon as the door opened. Spotting the girls, she gasped and covered her mouth. It was all she could do to avoid crying out in excitement where anyone in the street could hear. "I can't believe it," she half-whispered.

"Please, come in," Professor invited, stepping side.

Sara nodded and stepped inside. She bee-lined for the girls and bent forward to embrace all three in a group hug. "Oh, I've missed you all so much! I never thought this day would come."

She released them and turned to Professor, crossing her arms. "I can't believe you didn't tell me sooner."

"Well, I wasn't one hundred percent certain they wouldn't relapse. As it is, I've only just become confident enough to restore their powers in a few days."

"Well, I suppose I can only be so upset on a happy day like this." Glancing at the locks on the door, she asked, "Problems keeping them inside?"

"Oh, that's just me being paranoid," Professor said, waving his hand as if physically brushing the topic away. "They'll be out and about in no time."

"Yes," Sara agreed. Turning to the girls, she said, "About that... Would you girls please sit down. There are some things you need to know."

They nodded and did as she asked. Professor sat in a nearby recliner and watched Sara speak.

"Professor told me he's filled you in on a few basic details of the time leading up to your accidents. However..."

Sara spent some time telling the girls that the city had slipped in their absence. Much as before their creation, it was one where crime ran rampant. There was little in the way of super villains. Even Him rarely seemed to waste his time on the city. The Amoeba Boys were about the biggest unusual threat there was. Mostly, it was common criminals that made life unpleasant.

"Which goes to show, people like the Harvester had it all wrong. You can't keep a beautiful garden by pulling weeds alone. You girls plant seeds of hope and beauty in the people's hearts. I know people will have questions, and I'll do my best to answer them on your behalf."

She glanced at Professor. "Keeping these secrets has been...difficult. It's good to finally get some closure. Speaking of which, Bubbles, do you remember anything about your encounter with the Harvester?"

Professor had been drumming his fingers against one another as he watched. He stopped.

"Not a thing," Bubbles replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, it's just a bit...strange that we never found the Harvester's body. We have your dying... Your final... Well, we had your word, but that's all. Neither the farmer nor the Harvester have been seen since, so it's easy to assume he's gone. In any case, don't trouble yourself over it. If you happen to remember any details, I'd love to hear them. But for now, maybe we should focus on brighter days ahead."

"I agree," Professor said, speaking a bit more firmly than usual. "That past isn't a part of us anymore." Catching Bubbles's gaze, he asked, "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Professor," she replied.

Sara continued, "I think you girls might want to take it a little slowly at first. Lay low. Try not to be seen, or to let your flight trails be obvious. Let them know there's somebody out there, but not who."

"Why?" Buttercup said, face scrunched as if she'd encountered an offensive odor.

"Well, I wish I could say it was for simple showmanship, but I worry the people may be jaded at this point. They might look the proverbial gift horse in the mouth and wonder what the catch is. But if we give them some time to get used to the city having some kind of protectors, then when the truth comes out I expect they'll be too busy cheering to worry. You will have already proven things are going to go back to the way they used to be."

Blossom stroked her chin. "I guess that makes some kind of sense. We'll be subtle. So, Ms. Bellum, anything in particular you'd like us to look into?"

"The only thing I want is for you girls to get your feet wet again. Poke at this thing from the edges and get the criminals running scared."

"Does this mean we're gonna fix the hotline?" Bubbles asked.

Ms. Bellum nodded. "Of course, but not right away. We can't really tip our hand just yet. Now, I'd love to stay and talk, but I have a lot of work to do back at the mayor's office. But just let me say, it's good to have you girls back again."

Professor stood up and asked, "Ms. Bellum? Mightn't you please come downstairs with me for a moment? There are some things I'd like to discuss."

Ms Bellum blinked her eyes, looking like she'd almost remembered, or almost forgot, something. "Of course, Professor."

"We'll be up in a bit girls."

"Ms. Bellum!" Bubbles called out. "I saw the speeches you made for our services. They were very beautiful."

"Uh-huh." She didn't even bother turning to look at them as she passed into the kitchen.

Bubbles pouted.

"Here's an idea," Blossom suggested. "They said Fuzzy went missing, right? Maybe, between excursions to the city, we can hide out in the woods and look for evidence. That should keep us occupied and help us lay low. What do you girls think?"

They shrugged.

Blossom continued making plans for several minutes, until Professor and Ms. Bellum reappeared in the living room. The latter was rubbing her temple.

"Goodbye, girls."

"Ms. Bellum?" Blossom asked. "Are you feeling all right."

"Oh, it's nothing. Just a slight headache." She reached for the door knob.

"Here, let me get that for you," Professor offered. He pulled his keys out, unlocking it again, then locking it behind her.

Turning to the girls, he clapped his hands together, smiled, and asked, "So, what should we have for lunch?"


	14. Memoria Eterna

Chapter 14  
[Memoria Eterna]

"Ready, Blossom?" Professor asked.

"Ready," she responded. They'd gathered in the lab, and Blossom lay stretched out on a gurney again. Just in case.

She grimaced slightly at the needle. While Chemical X could be ingested or splashed, at least this avoided spillage or digestive issues.

Professor set the hypodermic aside and shone his penlight in her eyes. "How are you feeling? Still with us?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Any dizziness? Head pain? Do you feel funny at all?"

"No. I feel... Great, actually. Super, even." She sat up and looked around, trying out her penetrating vision. According to her memories it hadn't been that long, but it still felt like she hadn't viewed her home like this in ages. She saw the rooms, the walls—even the plumbing and wiring. Including the singed wire in Buttercup's room. Maybe they should offer to fix that for Professor.

The only thing she couldn't see through were the walls to the inner lab, but that was to be expected based on what Professor had told them. Besides, it wasn't like there was anything sensitive in there anymore.

She smiled and hovered off the gurney. Feeling more confident, she swooped over to her sisters and gave them hugs, then back to Professor to give him one.

"It worked! I'm back to normal!"

"Wonderful," Professor said. "Now, Bubbles, it's your turn. I know you're a few days short of your sisters, but everything should be just fine."

"The needle won't hurt at all," Blossom falsely promised.

Bubbles scowled. "I can take a needle, thank you very much. I'm not a baby, you know." She hopped up and lay down on the gurney. "Okay, Professor. Ready when you are."

Professor prepared the second hypodermic, and—

"Ouch!" she called.

"There, there," Professor said. "All done." Then, out with the light and the same questions.

"All right, Buttercup," Professor said flatly. "It's your turn."

She gulped. If Bubbles could handle a needle, so could she, but she did take her spot on the gurney with some trepidation.

"Ready?"

"Mmm-hmm."

Buttercup didn't even wince at the needle, but she lay very still while Professor shined the light in her eye and asked her questions.

"Well," he said, pocketing his flashlight for the last time. "I guess... This is really it. The PowerPuff Girls are back."

"Whoo-hoo!" Bubbles cheered, raising her hand in the air. Buttercup sat up and participated in the group high five.

"Now, girls," Professor said. "Just remember—keep it on the down low. It's very important that people not realize you're back yet." He swept his gaze over each of them. "Do you understand?"

They nodded.

"Good. Now, remember, be back in time for supper. And if any of you feel even the least bit...off...come back home _immediately_. No matter what. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir, Professor." Blossom promised. "I'll keep everything under control."

Professor took a deep breath to steady himself, closing his eyes and holding it in. When he let it go, he opened his eyes and smiled. "Go make us proud."

* * *

The girls observed the city from the clouds. There seemed to be a lot of petty crime going on, so they cherry-picked the things they got involved in. Always careful to avoid revealing themselves.

It was nothing challenging. Indeed, Buttercup seemed bored and distracted when she wasn't taking action. They all took turns or played rock-paper-scissors for chances to swoop in alone. Despite their restraint, within a few hours they heard the rumors spreading.

"Sounds like we made our mark," Blossom said. "Maybe we shouldn't push it too much today. How about we go pay Fuzzy's cabin a visit?"

Her sisters smiled and nodded. Fuzzy Lumpkins had lived in the forest adjoining the city, mostly keeping to himself but causing trouble whenever he didn't.

Now his cabin was a charred pile of ruin.

"Wow," Blossom said. "Do you think this happened after he disappeared?"

"No..." Bubbles said distantly.

"How can you be sure?" Buttercup asked, though she seemed a little distracted herself.

Bubbles looked around. Off to the side, she spotted it. A pile of burnable refuse, a safe distance from the house. Years of neglect had caused much of its contents to rot. Grass and moss even grew in some places, and one could imagine it becoming a small hill in time.

"It was dark," Bubbles said. She reached out to the burn pile and saw a flash of something. A glimmer of a nighttime memory.

"It was dark?" Blossom repeated, confused.

"Bubbles, you're scaring me," Buttercup said halfheartedly.

Bubbles ignored her sisters, turning towards the house instead. For a moment, the cabin appeared whole again, light pouring through the windows and illuminating Fuzzy's face. Something about the scene appeared distorted, but Bubbles couldn't say how just yet.

Bubbles walked towards what used to be the front porch, her sisters trailing.

"We should tell Professor about this," Blossom suddenly spouted. Buttercup put her hand on her shoulder, gripping it almost painfully hard, and pointed at Bubbles. She'd stopped walking, was staring at the grassy ground in front of her.

A flash of Fuzzy, laying on his stomach, staring up and stretching out his hand.

"He got burned in the fire," Bubbles said from somewhere far away. She stopped, looking all around again. After turning circles a few times, looking up at treetops and down into the woods, she pointed. "Over there."

Blossom was growing agitated. Her heart began to pound as she felt an urge to take action. "We need to tell Professor about this _immediately_."

Buttercup grasped her sister's hand in her own, intertwining their fingers. Blossom stared into her eyes for a bit, and felt her heart calming. Buttercup was smiling now. The smile felt more like innocent curiosity than happiness, like the world hadn't yet taught her not to smile. Blossom followed without complaint when Buttercup ran off after Bubbles.

They found her staring at the ground again.

"I... I found him," she said. Her voice was uneven. Frightened.

She was hit with repeated images. Moments in time. The shushing sound of shovel in soil. The pattering of dirt landing. All of the images off in the same way. It was almost as if she saw things from someone else's eyes, but...flat. Like a picture. Without depth or substance.

Her sisters did as she'd done, using their penetrating vision to look into the ground below.

"Oh, no," Blossom said.

"Wow, he's deep," Buttercup said. "I bet animals couldn't even sniff him out."

Bubbles was suddenly drawn back to the present. "We need to tell Professor!" she cried. "Something's not right!"

Blossom blinked her eyes, snapped out of her own reverie. She pulled her hand from Buttercup's. "You're right. Come on, girls, we need to let him know right away."

"Wait!" Buttercup called before they shot off. She put her hand on Blossom's shoulder and walked her to stand beside Bubbles. The three of them huddled as Buttercup spoke. "Professor's happy to have everything back to normal. We shouldn't go jumping to conclusions and scaring him, do you understand?" They nodded at her, suddenly calm again. "Ms. Bellum wanted us to figure out the loose ends about this Harvester creep, right? Maybe this is just the first step in the trail. Professor's gotten overprotective and kept us from doing our jobs before, right? Don't you girls want to see this through?"

Blossom complained, "Buttercup, don't tell me you haven't learned your lesson about disobeying orders."

Bubbles agreed. "Yeah. He said we needed to tell him if we started feeling weird."

"What, like falling back into a coma and stuff? Nuh-uh. This ain't that. We need to keep this a secret just between us. Do you understand?" she asked, looking at Blossom. "We gotta trust each other." Buttercup clasped each of her sister's hands. "We'll take care of each other, no matter what. Do you understand?" she asked, looking at Bubbles now.

They both nodded, clasping each other's hands now.

"I guess you have a point," Blossom said.

"I wouldn't want to worry him," Bubbles agreed.

"But what happened, Bubbles?" Blossom asked.

"I don't know. I saw things. Bits and pieces, like a camera flash."

"But how? Why?"

"I... I don't know."

"Was it the Harvester?" Buttercup asked.

"I don't know," Bubbles said angrily. "I don't know," she said again, quietly.

Blossom suggested, "Well, if this really is the Harvester's trail, maybe we should investigate some of the other crime scenes."

Bubbles let go of her sisters' hands and hugged herself tightly. She shook her head.

"Bubbles?" Buttercup asked, resting her hand on Bubbles's upper arm. "I saw a full moon. A big, bright, white full moon. Does that mean anything to you?"

Bubbles stared at Buttercup curiously. At first, nothing, but then a flash of something. A pure, white, featureless orb.

She closed in on herself again. "I don't like it."

"Wait," Blossom said. "Buttercup? You had a vision, too?"

"No," she insisted. "Nothing like that."

"So what you're saying is...this isn't just affecting Bubbles? This is something to do with all of us?"

"Maybe," Buttercup said, shrugging. "Point is, Bubbles, you don't have to be afraid. We'll figure this out together, just the three of us, do you understand?"

Bubbles tried to smile, but didn't have the strength. She looked divided, but nodded.

"In any case," Blossom interjected, "maybe we should call it a day."

Her sisters nodded in agreement, and after a few minutes trying to cheer Bubbles up and let her regain her composure, they zipped off back home.


	15. Nightmare

Chapter 15  
[Nightmare]

"Good morning, dear," Professor greeted.

Buttercup stepped into the kitchen and saw her family sitting at the table. Professor didn't partake in the meal, but plates were laid out for her and her sisters. Plates full of sweets, ice cream, blueberry pancakes with whipped cream on top, all drizzled with chocolate syrup.

Dozens of snakes writhed out from the bottom of Professor's pant legs. Human eyes dotted the length of their bodies, darting all around the room, blinking as they slithered.

Buttercup sat down. She brought a forkful of pancakes to her mouth, but found them dry, chalky, and bitter.

Bubbles's hand shook as she struggled to lift her fork. She was no taller, and her hair no less brilliantly blonde, but her skin was old and wrinkled. Her strength sapped away.

Blossom ate with her free hand. The other, and the rest of her body, was bound to her chair with thick, dark, heavy chains. A great big padlock rested prominently atop those chains, presenting an oversized, old-fashioned keyhole to Buttercup.

One of the eye-snakes crept up from below the table, slithering onto the tabletop and turning its eyes towards her as Professor spoke. "Hello again, sweetheart," he greeted. "Did you sleep well?"

Buttercup didn't answer. She felt a heavy weight on herself, and looked down to find that she was bound as well. But there was another, brighter chain. A chain of shining silver, running between one of the Blossom's ankles and one of hers. Unlike the other chains, this one felt light and comfortable. It bore neither lock nor visible way of breaking it.

Eye-snakes slithered along the floor, wrapping around the length of silver chain, trying to hide it and dull its brilliance.

"You're killing my family," Professor said casually. "Would you like seconds?"

Buttercup looked down to her plate. The food had turned to ash, ready to collapse into nothing at the slightest provocation.

Buttercup, somehow looking underneath the table without bending down to do so, saw the eye snakes slither up her sisters' bare legs, spinning round and round like the stripe on a barber shop pole. They vanished underneath their skirts, making their clothing bulge as they crept up their torsos.

Bubbles's aged, weak voice struggled to speak. "We should have a sleepover."

All three of them, Blossom, Bubbles, and the Professor spoke in unison. In a dull monotone. "Always sleep alone."

"That sounds like fun," Blossom said, straining to speak through her constricted throat. The chains on her chair had grown and spread, making it hard to speak. Her arm quivered against the weight of the chains as it tried futilely to bring her fork to her mouth.

"Always sleep alone," the three of them said.

Buttercup looked down. Three eye snakes were slithering towards her. Each time they made contact with her body, sparks flew, and they recoiled.

"That sounds wonderful," Professor said, ignoring the light show under the table.

"Always sleep alone," the three of them said.

Buttercup looked down again. One of the eye snakes was lying dead and still, smoke rising from its body. The eyes had burst, leaving empty sockets. The other two snakes swayed back and forth, just out of reach, but did not strike.

"Who are you, Buttercup?" Professor asked.

"Who are you, Buttercup?" Blossom asked through the tightening chains.

"Who are you, Buttercup?" Bubbles asked weakly.

"Who are you, Buttercup?" Professor asked again.

No. No, she heard it wrong.

"Who are you? Buttercup." Professor answered.

"Who are you? Buttercup." Blossom reminded.

"Who are you? Buttercup." Even Bubbles's weak voice left no room for Buttercup to answer the question herself.

They repeated their question and answer over and over. The kitchen was gray and dark, lit dimly with no-light. The ceiling was vast, empty darkness over head. As their litany continued, light shone through the kitchen window. A train whistled distantly.

Ignoring her family, Buttercup stood up. Walking unencumbered and unchained into the living room, the rumbling of the train grew nearer. Louder. The front door was open, and the light grew brighter, heading directly for her.

Again the whistle. Loud. Startling. Warning. Even the house shook with the approach of the train, ground rumbling like it was a fully loaded freight train. But, without seeing it, Buttercup knew it was a passenger train.

The train sped into view. Buttercup calmly closed the front door before the train entered the house. Its sounds become so muffled as to be almost unheard. She returned to the kitchen.

Professor stood alone, a small length of dark chain wrapped around his leg and held by the padlock. A hindrance, but not nearly enough to hold him down. He wore a bloody surgical gown and mask. Ruby red drops fell from the scalpel in his hand.

* * *

Buttercup's eyelids fluttered open. Her heart did not race. She didn't have the panic and tight dread that accompanied a nightmare. Calmly, she stretched and sat up. She looked at her damaged outlet. Her penetrating vision saw through the surface to the wire beneath. Slowly her gaze trailed along its length.

There. Near the top. Fused in to the wire so that it was almost impossible to see, but standing out given that the damage was more intense in that spot.

Her eyes swept through the rest of the house. On the undamaged wires, it was harder to see the devices, even though she knew what she was looking for. Always perched near the ceiling, often in corners.

She pulled off her nightgown and slipped into a fresh set of clothes. Downstairs, she found her family in the kitchen, almost finished making a breakfast of eggs, bacon, and hash browns.

"Morning," Bubbles greeted.

Professor smiled, but with his mouth full of food could only tilt his head up in recognition of her entrance.

Blossom tended the stove. "Morning, sleepy-head."

"I'm not that tired," Buttercup responded. "In fact, why don't we have a slumber party and see who has trouble waking up tomorrow?"

"Ooh, that sounds nice," Bubbles said.

Blossom agreed, "I guess it's not a bad way to finish off our first _full_ day of having our powers back." She fired her eyes up at the skillet she was cooking the hashbrowns in. Buttercup smiled. Blossom always managed to give them just the right amount of crunch.

"You'll hear no complaints from me," Professor said. He tossed his napkin on his empty plate. "That was delicious. When you girls finish up, I'll be in the lab for your checkups."

"I'll go now," Buttercup offered, standing as well. "But I expect a big, heaping plate of goodness waiting for me when I get back."

"Will do," Blossom said.

Downstairs, Professor grabbed his clipboard. Buttercup sat on a chair and kicked her feet up, grabbing the old, lumpy paperweight as she did so. She squeezed and folded it in her hands, stealing only brief glances in Professor's general direction.

Professor was forced to clear his throat after the hearty breakfast. Showing the same halfhearted interest as Buttercup, he asked, "Have you experienced nightmares?"

"None."

"Unusual dreams?"

"None."

"In the waking hours, have you had feelings of deja vu?"

And so on and so on.


	16. Uneternal Waltz

Chapter 16  
[Uneternal Waltz]

"Feel anything?" Bubbles asked.

"Nada," Buttercup said. "Blossom?"

"Sorry," she replied.

Buttercup fumed, "I knew we should have gone to the warehouses instead." She kicked, sending a metal pipe clattering and scraping across the floor. It, like most everything else here, was old and rusty. This factory was old and abandoned even three years ago.

Nearly, abandoned anyway.

"There's no way we can go snooping around there in the daytime," Blossom warned. "That place is packed."

Bubbles giggled. "I get it. Because it's a warehouse?"

"I mean it's packed full of _people_. At least here, there doesn't seem to be anyone."

Buttercup kicked something else. A tiny bolt clinked and rang as it bounced away. "How are we even supposed to tell which part the Gangreen Gang was living in?"

They'd wanted to follow the trail of the Harvester as much as they could, while still doing some good in the city to satisfy Professor and Ms. Bellum. The obvious choice was to go to his last known location, at a serious of warehouses where he, Bubbles, Sedusa, and E-Mail had fought.

Instead, they settled for one of his earlier crime scenes. They'd needed to use the library Internet without being noticed to figure out where most of the Gangreen Gang had met their end.

"Maybe we can sneak out to the warehouse tonight?" Bubbles suggested.

"Nope," Buttercup said, kicking a stone, now. It had a muted, clattering sound.

Blossom was surprised. "You're the last person I'd expect to say 'no.'"

"We can go if we want, but we can't call it sneaking if Professor finds out."

"And why would he find out?" Blossom asked.

They stopped and watched in silence. Well, near-silence. Buttercup had kicked an old soda can, the first sign of human life that they had seen. Other than, of course, a great big factory. The can drummed and clattered and rolled and came to a stop on a big, red stain.

"I think we found their hideout," Blossom said. Somehow her echo was louder here. Either that, or it was just the first time one of their words had been followed by enough silence for the echo to breed.

Near the middle of the room was a makeshift fire pit. It was the epicenter of an explosion of bachelorhood and juvenile delinquency. Old bags, cans, and other trash were strewn about. Some old, ragged furniture lay on the floor.

Mostly, it was the bloodstains that held their attention. Whoever owned the factory was apparently as disinterested in cleaning up as they were in tearing it down.

Yes, there were four large pools, which they could easily enough guess had been final resting spots. But it was everywhere. Droplets here, a streak there, a bloody hand print on the overturned recliner.

"I'm not feeling anything...other than sick," Bubbles admitted.

"Ditto," Blossom said.

Buttercup chuckled. Irreverently, boldly, she stepped in the middle of the years-old crime scene her sisters didn't dare approach. "Man, look at this. Those guys must've been like one of those sprinklers." Mimicking its movements, Buttercup spun around in a circle, waving her arms around and going "Pss, pss, pss."

"Buttercup!" Blossom yelled, then regretted it. The sound reverberated off the walls and made her feel as disrespectful as Buttercup. "Stop being so insensitive," she "whispered" harshly.

Buttercup had stopped, but, "C'mon, lighten up. Nothing we can do about it now. Just look at all these lines on the floor. Like some kind of funky dance pattern."

Blossom opened her mouth to protest further, but was dumbstruck when Buttercup actually started dancing. Gracefully, no less. Bubbles had taken dance classes for a while, but had stopped after an ill-fated recital was interrupted by a supervillain when she was eight. Other than that, none of them had expressed any interest or talent.

"C'mon," Buttercup invited, sliding closer and startling Bubbles by grabbing her wrist. Looking at Blossom, Buttercup asked, "Hey, why don't you sing for us? You know—the one song."

"But— I— Sto— Wai—" Bubbles seemed off balance. In no danger of tripping, but not truly in control. Buttercup shimmied her one way, then another, to this side and that. She gave her sister a twirl, then helped her lean back and kick up her leg.

Buttercup was humming. It took Blossom a moment to recognize the song, but then again, she really didn't know that many. Basically only one, which she had to sing in a solo in third grade. It was probably burned into her mind for all eternity.

Amazing Grace.

Everything they were doing seemed so surreal. Blossom wanted to put her foot down and put things back in order. But as Buttercup danced further and further away from her, something stirred in the pit of her stomach.

"E—" enough, had been what she wanted to say. "Uh... Uh—mazing...grace...how sweet, the sound." It felt good. Singing. Relaxed the tight, hopeless feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Bubbles had stopped sputtering in protest, but felt no better. As she danced, glimpses began to come to her again. Flashes of red and green dancing in the firelight. She couldn't make out faces. The only thing that stood out in these flashes were droplets of blood. Not splattering on the ground or wherever their resting place was, or emerging from their source, but instead floating in the air. Like liquid in outer space, in eternal freefall.

It was more than sights, though. Sounds. A hard, wooden "clack" echoing off the walls in slow motion. A faint singing, ringing sound she couldn't place.

Each glimmer was disorienting and disturbing. With each, she almost lost her composure, almost slipped away, almost stopped the dance. Buttercup, however, led her on. Her gentle, powerful prodding kept her and Bubbles moving along, following the imaginary dance steps in the bloodstains. Kept reminding Bubbles of the here and now. Kept her halfway between the present and the past.

"Was blind, but now I see," Blossom sang. Bubbles's heart skipped a beat.

Half-blind. Sees better.

"...taught my heart to fear."

Her legs began to shake and grow weak. Buttercup smoothly helped her recover from a near-trip.

"And Grace, my fears relieved."

Bubbles felt her panic subside. Her stride grow stronger.

"How precious did that Grace appear," Blossom continued.

Bubbles began to dance with Buttercup, partner rather than follower. The steps were familiar to her now. An old waltz she'd learned years ago.

"The hour I first believed," Blossom continued, swaying gently. She continued singing, her song backing her sisters' dance, until Bubbles finally pulled away.

She lost her last meal in the fire pit.

Buttercup and Blossom were at her side, hands resting gently on her back.

"What did you see?" Buttercup asked excitedly.

"Are you all right?" came Blossom's counterpoint.

"I... I saw blood. And Little Arturo. Hiding in that locker, scared out of his mind. I could swear I felt the same fear he did. My... His... Our heart was pounding out of my chest. I kept panting but couldn't breathe. I was so afraid he'd hear me. I... I think the Harvester knew he was there. Left him alive, for some reason."

"And the killer?" Buttercup asked, leading gently. "How did he feel?"

"Feel?" Bubbles said, standing upright. "What do you mean how did he feel?"

"You said you felt what Arturo felt. What about the killer?"

Bubbles considered it for a moment. "Cold. He felt...empty. His... His heart wasn't in it, but it wasn't out of it. It's like he was distracted or something."

"Girls," Blossom said in a soft, sad voice. She stood behind her sisters and put a hand on each of their shoulders. "This is getting scary. Since when do we have psychic visions? Maybe it really is time... Time to..."

To what? Tell Professor? It was the sensible thing to do. But Blossom could also picture herself keeping quiet and being strong until they saw this through. Together.

"Where else can we look?" Bubbles asked, a cold edge in her voice. "What's next?"

"Bubbles, maybe we've had enough—"

"How about the old Morbucks mansion?" Buttercup suggested. "We can go there tomorrow."

"Tomorrow..." Bubbles mused, staring at the long-empty locker. Loosing a sigh, she again wiped her mouth and said, "Tomorrow works. I think I can do tomorrow."

"But, girls," Blossom objected, "if we're trying to piece this together, why don't we just cut to the chase, sneak out tonight, and check out the warehouses he was last seen at?"

"Cameras," Buttercup said simply.

"Right," Blossom acknowledged, rolling her eyes. "The warehouses probably have security cameras. But I guess we could disable them. At least temporarily."

"Nuh-uh. In our house," Buttercup corrected, kicking another soda can for emphasis. "They're hidden in the wiring. Hard to see." Buttercup tried to pick up a piece of rusty rebar with her feet, lifting it onto her toes so she could kick it up and catch it.

After catching it, she turned around. Her sisters still hadn't said anything.

Blossom wore the same worried, cautious look that Bubbles did. "Buttercup...are you saying someone's been spying on us?"

Twirling the rebar like a baton, she shrugged. "I figure it's just Professor. The locks, the questions, the exams—why not cameras, too?"

"But surely he'd expect us to see them."

"They're funny. No holes in the wall or nothing. Just see for yourselves when we get home." She stopped twirling the rebar. "Hey, check this out." She threw it at the wall with a grunt. It rang slightly as it cut through the air, slamming point-first into the wall with a crunch. A "NO TRESSPASSING" sign hung there. The piece of metal stuck out from the very center of the "O."

"Aw, yeah! Bullseye. So," turning back to her sisters, she asked, "back to catching bad guys the rest of the afternoon?"

"Why didn't you tell us this before?" Blossom asked.

"Well, duh, I only saw it this morning. Besides, what are you worried about? He's your dad, isn't he? They must be some kind of special heat cameras or something. It's not like he's some kind of peeping tom."

Bubbles pouted, kicking a can of her own. "It still doesn't seem very nice."

"Well," Blossom mused, "if it's true, we have to factor in that we have near-complete freedom and autonomy for several hours a day. The locks on the doors aren't any good against our powers, either. Maybe the cameras have already served their purpose as well."

Bubbles asked, "What purpose? Protecting us?"

"Hmm..." Blossom flew up to the rafters and sat down on a beam. Well away from the mess below. Her sisters flew up and joined her. "As I see it, there are two primary theories. Except... No, but the cameras are apparently so well hidden we can't easily spot them despite our powers. I think they're in place to supplement the daily examinations. See if we do odd things in our sleep. Stuff like that."

"What's Professor so worried about, anyway?" Bubbles asked.

Buttercup scoffed. "If he was really worried about something, don't you think he'd tell us? I bet it's all just another overprotective mood of his. It'll blow over."


	17. Atone

Chapter 17  
[Atone]

"We missed you this morning," Bubbles greeted as Buttercup strolled into the kitchen. Again the last to join them. Bubbles and Professor were making French toast while Blossom read the newspaper. Television and Internet access had finally been restored, but Blossom figured someone still had to make use of their newspaper subscription.

"I got uncomfortable sleeping on the floor. There wasn't room for three of us in Bubbles's bed, anyway."

Blossom chimed in, "If I'd have known you were just going to slink off into your room in the middle of the night, I would have let you have the bed."

"Whatever," Buttercup said, dismissing her with a wave and a yawn. "Maybe I just felt like sleeping alone. Slumber party was still nice, though."

"Sara's been pressuring me to go public," Professor turned and said to Buttercup. "I'm not quite sure I'm ready for that yet. If she tries to contact you, tell her you want a few more days. Do you understand?"

"Righty-O."

"You girls are sure you don't mind? Holding back? It's not too...boring? Or hard?"

"We're keeping busy," Blossom said. "I think we've struck a good balance for now."

"Me, too," he agreed. "You know, I haven't seen the news anchors so cheerful in a long time. I bet this will be a special week for everyone."

Bubbles set a few plates on the table. "Eat up, girls. We've got stuff to do today."

"My, my. Aren't we an eager beaver," Professor said, carrying two more plates. Butter and syrup were already placed in the middle of the table.

"Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed," Bubbles agreed. "Maybe you should tell Ms. Bellum we like it this way. If we keep working in secret, maybe we can live a normal life at school and home."

Buttercup shook her head and swallowed her first bite. "I don't know if I'd like the whole dual-identity thing."

"I would," Bubbles said. "Why don't you try being all sugary-sweet and then pound someone's teeth in."

Blossom laughed and spoke through a mouth half full of food. "I'd settle for just seeing her be sugary-sweet even once in her whole life."

* * *

"Hey, hold up," Buttercup said. The three of them hid in a cloud above the abandoned Morbucks mansion. Apparently big money didn't come through Townsville often enough to keep a place like this occupied. If not for all the missing furnishings, they might even wonder if Mr. Morbucks had kept it as a vacation home.

"What's up?" Blossom asked.

Buttercup dug in her pocket and pulled out a small, smooth, black stone. "I found this in my room. It's a worry-stone." She held it out to Blossom. "I want you to have it."

Blossom took it and rubbed her thumb over the smooth, black surface. "Thanks, but...what's the occasion?"

Buttercup shrugged. "I figure you do more worrying than the rest of us. Just try not to rub it down to nothing."

"Hardy har har," Blossom responded, pocketing the stone.

"Found it cleaning your room?" Bubbles asked.

"Hey, did you guys see that?" Buttercup asked, pointing down below.

"See what?" Blossom asked after a moment.

"There. Top floor. Just to the right of the skylight."

Her sisters looked through the roof.

"Security guard?" Bubbles asked.

"Makes sense," Blossom said. "A place this big and expensive, you can bet they don't want kids sneaking in and vandalizing the place."

"Well, they'll have to do a better job then," Buttercup declared. "Bubbles, do you remember where Princess's bedroom was?"

She shook her head. During their slumber party, she'd finally told them that she and Princess had supposedly become friends before her death. Like everything else after Buttercup's accident, however, she drew a blank on those memories.

"We've been there before," Blossom said. Scratching her chin, she added, "but it has been a while. Ah. Over there, on the end of the north wing. Looks like we'll have plenty of time before the guard sweeps the area. Let's go!"

They joined hands and swooped down together. They thought if anyone happened to spot something falling from the sky, they could at least make it harder to realize it was three people.

After slipping in through a patio door, they zipped through the hallways, closing the bedroom door behind them.

The room was barren, like many in the mansion. As huge as it must have seemed before, it was only bigger without furnishings. The carpet was a pure, pristine, plush white. The windows arched tall and gracefully, well over a story in height.

There was only one feature of note in the entire room.

Scratched into the wallpaper, which was torn in places to make the writing more obvious, was a single word: "YOU"

It had been cut into the wall with some kind of sharp instrument, and the edges were smeared with red.

Bubbles stared at it.

YOU

She thought back to the paper she'd found in the Konah Kids DVD and felt a chill.

YOU!

She saw the scratching on the wall. Very nearly the same as now, but in the dark of night.

YOU. YOU!

She saw Princess's face beneath her, contorted in fear and struggling for air.

YOU, YOU, YOU, YOU, YOU!

The scrap. The wallpaper. The scrap. Princess's face. The wallpaper. The scrap. A curved blade slicing into the wallpaper. Into her neck. The scrap. Princess's face.

Bubbles's face. Lit by pale moonlight from the massive windows. Reflected in the mirror of Princess's vanity.

"No!" Bubbles cried shrilly, startling her sisters. She fell onto her bottom and wrapped her arms around her legs.

Blossom looked around, wondering if anyone had heard the throaty, horrific sound.

Buttercup was at her sister's side as she began crying. "Was it Princess?" she asked softly. Bubbles did not respond.

Blossom spotted the security guard in the distance. He didn't seem to have noticed.

"Did you see yourself?" Buttercup asked. "Were you there that night?"

Bubbles did not respond, but her cries quieted.

"You were there, weren't you?" Buttercup asked. "You blame yourself, don't you?"

Bubbles slowly opened her eyes. When they looked at Buttercup they seemed empty somehow. More like Bubbles had lost a part of herself rather than regained one.

"It's not your fault, you know. It was the Harvester. But he's gone, now. Like Professor said. Do you understand?"

Bubbles squeezed her legs more tightly, but seemed slightly comforted. The coldness in her eyes was replaced by sadness.

Blossom joined them, crouching down. "Bubbles, if this is too much, we can go now."

"Do you see anything?" Bubbles whispered.

"No, I don't," Blossom admitted. "I've never seen anything in these places. Buttercup?"

"I saw...another round thing. A ball. Metal. Does that mean anything to you?"

Bubbles flinched. She saw a glimpse of a hand—her hand—molding and shaping a ball bearing into the shape of—"A sickle."

Blossom considered it. "A sickle is kind of round. And the Harvester was known to use one."

"A sickle," Buttercup repeated. "Okay. What else? Where else do you see it? The sickle?"

"In the dark," she said. She saw faces. So many faces. She squeezed her legs tighter. "Always in the dark."

"The warehouse," Buttercup urged. "Do you remember being in the warehouse with E-Male and Sedusa?"

She saw E-Male topple to the floor. Felt the rusty chains in her hand as she flipped Sedusa off a catwalk. Felt them tug on her hand as they reached the end of their length. Felt Sedusa's neck snap.

She saw Professor, running, terrified.

She remembered falling.

"It's okay," Buttercup said in a soft whisper. "We're here now. We're stronger together. You never have to worry about the Harvester. We'll protect each other—always. Do you understand?"

Bubbles fought to turn her mouth up in a smile, as she fought to keep her tears from flowing again. She lost both battles.

"Do you remember Princess?" Blossom asked.

After a pause, Bubbles shook her head. "No. I only remember... I only remember losing her. And missing her."

"Someone took her away from you," Buttercup offered. She reached her hand out and pressed it against Bubbles's chest. Bubbles let go of her knees and let them drop so she sat cross-legged. "But even if you don't remember her, you still feel her, right? Right here."

Bubbles looked at Buttercup with surprise and uncertainty, as if seeing her for the first time. "Yes."

"Hold on to that feeling. Nobody can take that away. We can't bring Princess back, but we can make sure the guy who tried to take her away from you gets what's coming."

Blossom asked, "But isn't the Harvester supposedly dead?"

Bubbles nodded and stood up, her sisters following suit. "Yes, he's gone," Bubbles said. "Maybe I can't point you to a body, but..." Her gaze drifted to the vandalized wall for a moment. "I'm sure of it," she said decisively. "The Harvester is never, ever coming back. So long as we're around..." Her serious tone dropped, and she looked at each of her sisters fondly. "So long as we're around, there'll never be anyone like him again."

She lost her composure again, though with joyful tears this time. Bubbles pulled her sisters into a group hug.

"You're strong. You know that, right?" Buttercup said.

"I've never been strong," Bubbles said, releasing her sisters.

"Of course you're strong. At least as strong as the rest of us."

"Not in the ways that matter."

Buttercup placed her hand on the back of Bubbles's head and gently pulled her forward until their foreheads touched. She smiled, though Bubbles could only see it in her eyes as she said, "I know that when the chips are down, you'll be strong enough for all of us."


	18. Tainted Desire

Chapter 18  
[Tainted Desire]

When they returned for dinner, Blossom thought that Bubbles seemed both unusually distant and unusually affectionate, even for her. Sometimes she seemed lost in thought, but the next moment she'd catch someone's eyes and break into a smile so bright one would expect it to light up a room.

The four of them gathered in the kitchen, working on a meal of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and gravy. By the time they'd left the potatoes simmering and the meatloaf baking, everyone had gotten at least three hugs and multiple "I love you"s from Bubbles.

They sat at the table, enjoying a little rest and passing the time together while their meal cooked.

Blossom watched quietly, sipping a cup of tea. She participated in conversation when prompted, but largely observed. What was it, exactly, that Bubbles and Buttercup were going through? And what was this feeling that there was something missing? Something she had overlooked.

The last few weeks in the house might have dulled her edge. A three-year coma probably didn't help, either. She wasn't sure what it was, and it felt like there were so many things obscuring her understanding. At her best, Blossom could peer through and scatter all the cobwebs in her way. Shine a light below the surface of a situation and see the real meaning or real menace beneath.

Right now, she couldn't get past the feeling of being left out. While she sipped, she slipped a hand into her pocket and found the worry stone Buttercup had given her. She rubbed her thumb against the smooth surface while her thoughts wandered.

After they'd eaten supper and started their nightly examinations, Buttercup came up from the lab and said, "Well, I'm going to head up to my room. I'm getting to another really good part in Consortium."

"Buttercup," Blossom said in a half-questioning, half-scolding voice. "Have you been staying up past your bedtime reading comic books?"

Buttercup smiled. "Like you've never stayed up late reading regular books."

Blossom cocked an eyebrow. Buttercup had her there. She got up for her own checkup, debating whether to tell Professor about the strange behaviors she'd seen these last few days. While there had certainly been times when she and her sisters had to handle things on their own, this seemed like one of those times she should reach out.

But whenever the urge came, it was countered by an even stronger urge for solidarity. She would trust her sisters. She would keep this secret.

For now, at any rate.

"Wanna watch something after you're done?" Blossom asked as she came back up to the kitchen.

Bubbles shook her head and got up to visit the lab. "No, thanks. I think I'm going to have a nice, long soak in the tub and call it a night."

"That sounds kind of nice, actually. You be good to yourself, then."

Bubbles kissed Blossom's cheek before they passed. "I'll do my best."

Blossom, apparently alone for the rest of the night, slipped into her bedroom and plopped on the bed. Maybe she should have Professor buy her some new books. Her favorite authors must have put out something in the last three years.

As it was, she didn't even waste her time checking her collection of books. She'd ruled out rereading them already.

Instead she stared at the ceiling and let her mind massage the problem that was still nagging her. She pulled the worry stone out of her pocket and rested her hands just above her chest. The stone's smoothness was inviting, but somehow she wished its surface were a little sleeker. Or more complex. Or both.

Yes, the stone. A gift from Buttercup. The thought made her happy, and reminded her of other small things. Buttercup resting on her lap while they watched movies. Calling Blossom her favorite sister—though it's possible she was just being playful.

But that led her thoughts to other things. The private connection Bubbles and Buttercup seemed to have in this Harvester investigation. Buttercup harshly telling her off when Blossom came to visit her in the night.

In fact, Blossom wasn't even planning to spend the night with her. That had been Buttercup's suggestion, and then she told her off on top of it!

Blossom frowned. That still stung. She lifted the worry stone to her mouth, rubbing its smooth edge on the sensitive parts of her lips. Again she wished it ran more smoothly.

But she'd been welcoming enough another day. Invited Blossom to come in and sit and talk, and even tuck her in after. Maybe she'd just been in a sour mood the first time. Maybe she wanted some private time and Blossom interrupted her.

Blossom withdrew the worry stone from her lips and stared at the underside of her headboard's roof. With her lights still turned on, she could just barely make out the writing even though she knew it was there. "We are not ourselves," she thought, mostly from memory.

Who had written that, she wondered. And when. Maybe Blossom herself, in another lifetime, though she couldn't imagine why. Even the thought of creating Ashley was hard to accept, though she had no reason to doubt the claims it was her doing.

But the writing...

The writing...

The writing!

Blossom sat up, the worry stone in her fist forgotten. She thought over the details and realized what she'd overlooked.

Back in the Morbucks mansion. The word carved into the wall. Certainly the place had been a crime scene once, but it's not like it was being preserved any longer. All the furnishings had been taken out long ago, after all.

Professor's comments the other day implied Mr. Morbucks had remained in town for months, maybe a year or more—Blossom couldn't recall. Either way, he had cleared out, so why leave the wall damaged? Why remove all traces of everything that had ever happened in the room, except for that single, solitary word?

Blossom left the worry stone on her bed and left her room. She glided up and over the railing, soft as silence itself. She'd heard Bubbles enter her bedroom minutes ago, and didn't expect to run into anyone. She winced at the thought of Professor's cameras, however. Buttercup had been right about that, and they were hard to spot in the wiring even though she'd known what to look for. While Blossom disliked her lack of privacy, she hadn't confronted Professor about it either.

Still, she wondered whether the house was bugged as well. What could she say or do that Professor wouldn't notice? She struggled to come up with an excuse for her visit while she glided over to Buttercup's door. Ever so gently, hoping Bubbles wouldn't hear, she knocked.

A few moments later, the door opened.

"Hi," Buttercup greeted. "Want to read with me?"

"Um... Sure." Blossom agreed. "I was going to borrow some, since I don't feel like reading my books," she lied.

Her excuse made, she passed through the door and closed it behind her. Buttercup sprawled on her bed, lying on her stomach, with a comic in front of her.

"That can't be good for your posture," Blossom commented before lying beside her in the exact same manner.

"'We have to act fast,'" Buttercup read in a ridiculously deep voice. "'The Mangulator could have planted dozens of those bombs all over the city.'"

Silence. Buttercup turned to Blossom.

"Oh. Ah... 'Well, then,'" Blossom read in an equally ridiculous voice.

Buttercup coughed softly. As if to avoid anyone in the comic hearing, she whispered, "Um, that's Kismet. She's a lady."

"Oh," Blossom whispered back. "Sorry. 'Well, then,'" she said in a much more feminine, slightly less ridiculous voice. "'We'd better stop wasting time.'"

Thoroughly distracted, Blossom continued reading with Buttercup, taking turns reading as different characters spoke. After a few pages, Buttercup lifted her arm and draped it over Blossom's back so she could snuggle closer.

Blossom smiled without realizing it, still in the middle of reading. When she finished, she mirrored Buttercup's gesture and scooted a hair closer. On impulse, she turned her head and kissed Buttercup just behind her ear. Her sister giggled and continued reading.

Blossom stared at her in wonder, paying no attention to Buttercup's reading. In this moment, Blossom wondered how she'd ever felt left out or unwanted.

"When did you become so adorable?" Blossom cooed.

"I dunno," Buttercup replied without looking away from her comic. "'Ah, General Consensus. We meet again,'" Buttercup continued, now voicing the villainous Mangulator himself.

Blossom took in a deep breath, "'Well, well, well, Mangulator. I suppose that mysterious message was your doing.'"

Buttercup paused. Those weren't the words in the comic.

"Bloss—"

"'And if not, then I'd certainly like to find out who. Strange that it would reappear there after so many years, wouldn't you agree?'"

Buttercup stared at Blossom, eyebrows hanging heavily. Blossom nodded at the comic, but Buttercup continued to stare at her as if she was mentally deficient.

"'Wouldn't you agree?'" Blossom repeated.

"Um, you know my camera's busted, right?"

Whispering so quietly Buttercup almost had to use her hearing powers to listen, Blossom asked, "But is the house bugged?"

Buttercup rolled onto her back, away from Blossom. She stared blankly at the ceiling and replied, "I dunno. What's bugging _you_?"

Blossom sat up and scanned the room. She noticed Buttercup's damaged camera, then scoured the room looking for anything else out of the ordinary. She couldn't be positive there were no listening devices, but she didn't see anything.

"The message on the wall today. It couldn't have been the original."

"Why do you say that?" Buttercup asked, still staring at the ceiling.

"Well, they would have cleaned it up by now. Assuming it was fresh, where do you think it would have come from?"

"I wrote it," Buttercup said plainly. "To help her remember."

Blossom appeared shell-shocked. For a long time, she neither spoke nor moved. She stared at Buttercup, mouth and eyes wide open.

"Why?" was all she could ask.

"I don't know. I just knew I needed to. It's not like I understand everything that's happening. But we're healing, so that's good."

"Healing?"

"Yeah. Stuff's coming back to us."

"Not to me it isn't."

Buttercup rose and hugged Blossom. "Of course, it is. You'll see."

After a few moments thought, Blossom asked, "The stone?"

"Do you like it?"

"I...I guess. Is it supposed to be special? Supposed to remind me of something?"

"I don't know. I just thought you'd like it."

"What is it? What am I supposed to remember?"

"I don't know. Do you feel like something's missing?"

"No. Not really."

"Then maybe nothing, right now."

"But what was Bubbles...remembering?" Realization dawned. "Buttercup... At the factory. In the woods. Was Bubbles...seeing things? Or was she...remembering things?"

"No clue," Buttercup said. "Why? Does it bother you?"

"Doesn't it bother _you_?"

"Not really. But I feel good about it. Don't you? Like everything's gonna be all right. Like a bunch of pieces are falling in place, right where they belong."

"I... I wouldn't say that, no. But if Bubbles is...remembering things that only the Harvester could have done, don't you think that's worth telling Professor about?"

"Do you wanna play by the rules, or do you wanna solve a mystery?"

"Mystery?"

"'Blossom Utonium and the Three Year Blackout,'" Buttercup joked. "All his precautions, all his questions—don't you think he knows something we don't? Don't you want to match wits with him, just a little?"

"I... Well, maybe. But he's my—our father. I trust him, and so should you. Maybe he's protecting us from something. Who knows what Bubbles is going through—or you, for that matter." _We are not ourselves._ "We're not acting like ourselves right now."

"Says who?" Buttercup countered. "You know what, go and tell Professor if you want to. See if I care. But if you want to work together as a team and lead us to victory, you'll have to be strong, do you understand?"

"I... I guess."

Buttercup picked up her comic. "It's getting pretty late. But thanks for reading with me. It was nice."

"Yeah." Blossom smiled, thinking back. "Yeah, it was nice." She climbed off the bed while Buttercup changed into her nightgown. Sullenly, she added, "I just wish I felt like my pieces were falling into place, too." She finished with renewed determination, "Which, I guess, is all the more reason to keep looking for the answers."

Buttercup slipped under the covers.

"Want a tuck?" Blossom asked.

"Not tonight. Maybe you should tell Bubbles good night on your way down?"

"All right. Goodnight, sleepy-head."

"G'night."

Blossom left and knocked on Bubbles's door. When she heard no response, she chanced a peek through the door. She was already in bed, fast asleep. So much for an evening of soaking in the tub. Blossom smiled at her, then retreated to her own room, and soon after to her bed.


	19. Fearless

Chapter 19  
[Fearless]

"You did what?" Blossom asked, coming to a stop inside the next cloud and turning around to face Bubbles.

"I snuck out," she repeated.

The three of them absentmindedly floated along with the cloud so it didn't pass by and expose them to people below. Blossom waited for an explanation. When none was forthcoming, she asked, "Why?"

Buttercup floated nearby with a small frown on her face, almost imperceptibly shaking her head and muttering something neither of her sisters heard.

"Because I had to," Bubbles said. "I needed to—and I needed to see how Professor would react, if he reacted at all."

"So you...wanted to get caught?"

"I wanted to see if I did, and what would happen."

"Is that why you 'needed,'" Blossom spat out the word like a piece of bad meat, "to go out?"

"No. It's... That's something else. I was—" Bubbles stopped searching for words. For a moment she seemed very tired, though she'd hid it well up until now. Blossom wondered how long she was out last night. "I was feeling things. Remembering stuff, kind of. It's like...like there are holes. But sometimes, some things... I don't know how to describe it. Like sometimes I can look past those holes and see the things I forgot."

"I still don't see what that has to do with sneaking out."

"I do. It's because I was sneaking out before. In the times I forgot. Blossom, I... I don't remember everything, but I remember enough to get the general idea."

"And why aren't I 'remembering' anything like the two of you are?"

Bubbles rolled her eyes. "I'm not sure you had much to forget, other than the day or two we had Ashley. Not that I can remember _at all_. You...I think you just shut yourself away and read books."

"Wait," Blossom said, lost in thought. "Like, rereading the books I haven't touched in ages? The ones I don't feel like reading now because I somehow still remember them too well?"

Bubbles shrugged. "Maybe."

Buttercup spoke up. "You shouldn't have done that." Again she shook her head. "I got a bad feeling."

"Oh?" Bubbles asked. Her tone was unfamiliar. Harsh, but without the hot temper Bubbles occasionally exhibited. Cold and confrontational. "Care to share your insights? Or what about the full moon? The shiny metal ball?" Bubbles narrowed her eyes and leaned in uncomfortably close. Buttercup didn't budge. "What about the song?"

"Song?" Blossom asked, plainly lost.

"The song she asked you to sing." Bubbles turned her head at Blossom. "I was thinking about it. Doesn't it...feel strange? Remind you of anything?"

Blossom scrunched her eyebrows as if trying to squeeze the memory out, but nothing came. "Sorry."

Bubbles floated a little closer to Blossom now. "It was dark. Do you remember that?"

"No."

Closer still. "Do you remember sitting?" She clasped Blossom's hand in hers and looked her in the eyes. "Singing it with me?"

Blossom closed her eyes, as much to avoid the intense gaze as to reflect on the questions. She was about to shake her head again when Bubbles began to sing it softly. Blossom opened her eyes, and Bubbles gently put her hand over them to encourage Blossom to close them again.

Blossom felt something. A distant pressure. She opened her mouth to sing with Bubbles, in case it jogged her memory. Before she sang one word, she flinched, jolted by something in the darkness. For a brief moment, she heard some loud, horrible, whining sound.

"What is it?" Bubbles asked softly.

"Some... Some sound."

"Was it a soft sound?"

"No, it was...harsh. Loud."

"Like an explosion?"

"No... Constant." Blossom could almost hear it again. Though the memory of the sound was hazy, somehow she got hold of the "feel" of it. "Angry. Scary."

"Was it natural?"

"No, it was—it was artificial! It was...a tool. A..."

After several seconds, Blossom gently grasped her sister's wrist and pulled it down so she could see. Bubbles's eyes shone just a little more brightly, slightly moist.

"It was a saw. A bone saw," Blossom told Bubbles, who nodded.

Blossom's gaze drifted back to Buttercup, still floating nearby with her arms crossed and a faint scowl. Blossom remembered seeing Buttercup lying on a table in the medical bay. She remembered their father's desperate effort to remove a foreign object from Buttercup's head before it did any more damage to her brain. She remembered sitting in the corridor outside with Bubbles, singing the only song Blossom knew in an effort to distract themselves from the horrible sound.

Blossom's eyes widened. "Of course!" Turning to Bubbles she said, "Maybe Buttercup was remembering the light above the operating table. Not a full moon. The ship was full of metal, and maybe she heard us singing the song!"

"Why, then?" Bubbles asked. "Why did we forget and why are we only remembering now?"

"I don't know... Maybe we are linked, somehow, like Professor said. Maybe when we lost Buttercup, we became incomplete. Now that we're together—"

"It's our powers," Buttercup interrupted. "We started the day we got our powers back."

"Exactly," Bubbles said. "So what do you think, Blossom?"

"I guess it's possible, but it's not like our powers gave us photographic memory or anything."

"No," Bubbles admitted, "but they have helped us to heal, haven't they?"

Blossom pondered this. "So you're suggesting our memory loss...was a kind of damage? But if that's true, how did it happen in the first place? And..." Blossom began to see the answer even before she finished asking the question. "Why so consistent? Why at the same point in time for all of us?"

Her sisters waited quietly for Blossom to say what they were all thinking.

"And yet I remembered the books I'd re-read even before my powers returned, like that got...missed. Overlooked. Professor... Do you think he took our memories away?"

"It makes sense," Bubbles suggested. "He wouldn't want Buttercup to remember dropping into a coma on an operating table in some godforsaken spaceship. Do you think he'd want you to remember being depressed? Or watching Ashley disappear like Bunny did? He probably thought he was doing us a favor. He's watching us like hawks and playing twenty questions six times a day between the three of us. Looking for any sign, any trace of our past."

"But...why? Why is that so important?"

Bubbles narrowed her eyes. "That's what I'm going to find out." Relaxing a bit, she continued, "I never used to sneak out before the lost days—at least not alone in the middle of the night. Let's see what he does."

Buttercup shook her head again, but kept her mouth shut.

"So...what did you do last night?" Blossom asked.

"I visited some places to see if they brought back any memories."

"Did they?"

Bubbles's hard expression vanished completely. Her face twitched, lost somewhere between a smile and a frown. "Yeah." She paused to sniffle and wipe her eyes. "Yeah, they did. About Princess, mostly. That's what I miss remembering the most. She was... She was fun. And pretty nice once she opened up. I..." Something seemed to swallow up Bubbles's words before they could escape. When they finally did come, they spilled out in a torrent that seemed to leave her empty. "I just wish she hadn't died."

Feeling weak, Bubbles dipped a bit, but forced herself to stay in flight. Blossom flew over and tucked her arms under Bubbles's, wrapping her tight and providing her toes for Bubbles to stand on. Buttercup floated over to the other side and wrapped her arms around the both of them, offering further support.

Bubbles allowed herself to relax, resting her chin on Blossom's shoulder while she waited for the tears to stop flowing. She felt her sisters pressed against her. Warm. Soft. Alive.

Bubbles hugged Blossom with a force that would crumple a car into a ball, but she could take it. For Bubbles, the powerful gesture was something she desperately needed.

Buttercup whispered softly, gently into Bubbles's ear, though loud enough for Blossom to hear. "Please don't do stuff like sneaking out again. We know you're upset, but don't go picking fights or trying to get yourself into trouble. We need each other—do you understand?"

Bubbles nodded.

Blossom noticed the cloud had drifted away while they were distracted. If anyone cared to look up right now, they were exposed. "Hey," she whispered, getting their attention. She nodded her head at the cloud and they understood. Bubbles gently pushed Blossom away to let her know it was okay to let go, and they floated back into the foggy white mist.

Safely hidden again, Blossom asked, "What do you think Professor's going to do, anyway? Admit the truth? Explain himself, apologize, and say 'it was worth a shot?'"

After a struggle, Bubbles forced a smile. "Maybe to you. Maybe to Buttercup. I... I wish it were that easy."

Blossom furrowed her brow. "Are you saying it's different with you?"

"Maybe," she replied in a tight voice.

Blossom reached out to take each of Bubbles's hands in her own. "Why do you think that?"

Bubbles took a few deep breaths to gain her composure. "I'm... I'm not really ready to talk about it. And there are still so many pieces missing, I... I don't understand everything. But I understand enough."

"Bubbles," Blossom cooed with the softest of pity. "Did something bad happen back then?"

Bubbles shook her head and actually managed a small smile. "Any pain I felt—in the end—was all my fault. But I know that's over with. We're stronger together. If Professor thinks he needs to take parts of our lives away from us, I think he's wrong. Together, we can get through anything."

Buttercup patted Bubbles loudly on her back. "That's my girl. Now if we're done with all this mushy stuff, can we get back to our regularly scheduled bad guy bashing?"

Blossom smiled.

Bubbles giggled, withdrawing her hands from Blossom's. "I see some things never change."

"What?" Buttercup protested. "Of course things change. That's how we know we exist. Change isn't always nice, but that's when you feel the most alive, isn't it?"

Blossom asked, "Since when did you get all philosophical on us?"

Buttercup shrugged. "I must've gotten that from you." She pounded her fist into her palm with a loud "smack." "So, what'll it be? Socrates or sock some teeth?"

Blossom focused her ears, hearing sirens in a few parts of the city, scattered cries in others. "All right, then. How about we split up and cover more ground—show this city some real change."

"Sounds good to me," Buttercup said eagerly.

"Ah, ah, ah!" Bubbles objected. "You've got to say it first."

"Say what?" Blossom asked.

Bubbles leaned in and whispered.

When she pulled back, Blossom smiled. "All right, girls. Let's move out!"


	20. Haunted, 2nd Floor

Chapter 20  
[Haunted – 2nd Floor]

The girls returned home through the windows to Bubbles's room.

"What's for dinner tonight?" Buttercup asked. "I'm starving."

Bubbles closed the window and replied, "I don't know, but if Professor doesn't have plans I feel like making a lasagna."

Blossom countered, "Your lasagnas barely fit in the pan! You always use too much ricotta." She opened the bedroom door and stepped out.

Bubbles followed and replied, "I can't help if I've developed a taste for it."

"I just don't like the texture."

Instead of following her sisters down the stairs, Buttercup leaned over the railing and said, "Hey, Professor. T.V. busted again?"

Professor Utonium was sitting in the recliner, hands folded in his lap. The remote sat on the armrest, but the television was currently off. Her sisters continued down the stairs, now quietly observing him.

"I was working on the power line to your room," he said. His expression was so flat as to be unreadable. "Your wall needs a second coat of paint and the wiring downstairs isn't finished. I had an accident in the lab and couldn't quite finish up."

"Accident?" Blossom asked.

Bubbles rushed over to the recliner and rested her hand on it, "Are you okay?" She looked Professor over, wondering if she'd see anything. "Oh—your leg!"

"Seems a rung on the ladder broke," he said, still staring blankly at Buttercup up above. "I managed to sort myself out. I hope you girls will forgive me if I'm not up to cooking tonight's dinner."

Blossom used her penetrating vision on his leg and saw the damage that had startled Bubbles. Blossom protested, "Professor, this looks like it was serious." His shin bone appeared to be set, but its damage was still plain. Beyond the bone itself, the swelling and damage to the flesh around it was telling. Yet he had no cast, no crutch, and only a thin wrapping of gauze underneath his pants legs. "Was it a compound fracture?" She already knew it had been, despite being in much better shape now. "Did you go to the doctor?"

He broke his gaze with Buttercup and stared at the blank screen. "I learned quite a bit about regenerative treatments in the last several years," he replied flatly. "I'll be good as new before you know it."

"Daddy?" Bubbles asked, showing her worry plainly. "You don't sound like yourself."

"Must be the pain killers. Why don't you girls do me a favor and prepare supper tonight? I think we can skip tonight's checkups. For that matter, maybe it's time to forget about them altogether."

"Whatever you say, Professor," Blossom answered. "Are you sure there's nothing else we can do? Are you absolutely sure you don't need a doctor?"

Professor scoffed and dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. "Doctors."

Apparently that was all he felt needed to be said. After an awkward pause, Blossom said, "O...kay, then. You just sit and rest up. Is there anything special you'd like?"

"No, no. You girls go ahead and make whatever you please." He tilted the recliner back and stared at the ceiling now.

Bubbles waited by the recliner as Buttercup finally came down the stairs. While she waited, Bubbles turned her gaze to Buttercup's room. She adjusted her focus until she saw the wires in the wall, following them and searching.

It seemed Buttercup had a fresh camera to go with her new wire.

The girls shared, but did not express, a sense of unease. They immediately began making spaghetti, though less out of eagerness as to quickly put dinner behind them. Splitting up to make the noodles and side dishes, they worked in near silence.

Whenever they glanced in the living room, they saw Professor still resting in his recliner and staring at the ceiling. One might expect him to doze off, but his eyes remained wide open.

The girls exchanged glances as they busied themselves. Without a word, Bubbles and Blossom knew they wanted to speak privately. Buttercup may or may not have gotten the message. Mostly she seemed sullen and distracted, occasionally shaking her head and sighing.

"Bubbles," Blossom began tentatively, watching closely for Professor's reaction. "Could you take a peek in the lab? Make sure everything's all right down there?"

Bubbles nodded. Professor didn't seem to react. Blossom glanced at Buttercup, wordlessly asking her to stay put in the kitchen for a moment. She gave the pots a stir while Blossom slipped out to the living room.

"You sure you're feeling all right, Professor? Can I get you a drink or turn on the T.V.?"

"That's all right," he said flatly. "Daddy's just thinking."

"Oh? What are you thinking about?"

"Oh," he began, seeming ready to launch into an elaborate explanation. After an uncomfortable period of silence, he finally said, "Stuff."

"What kind of stuff?" Blossom pressed gently.

"Lab stuff. Maybe doing some work in the sub-basement. Where we keep Dynamo and the other big stuff."

Slowly, gently, Blossom put her hand on her father's shoulder. He just continued staring at the ceiling. "Dad, maybe you should take it easy for a while. You've been awfully busy worrying about us already. Wouldn't you like to spend some more time with your girls? I know we're getting older and stuff, but we wouldn't complain. You've been waiting a long, long time for this, haven't you?"

"Oh, yes. A long time. Too long."

"Blossom?" Bubbles called out softly from the kitchen.

Blossom turned to look, and Bubbles motioned for her to come over. Sparing a brief glance at Professor, she withdrew her hand and walked into the other room.

"There's still some blood down there. I think he was on a tall ladder, feeding electrical wire, and one of the rungs half broke off. He must have caught his leg in between some of the rungs when he fell and..."

"How much blood?"

Bubbles stopped to consider this. "I don't think it was major. Probably just a flesh wound. I don't know how bad it really was. The blood leads to the elevator to the sub-basement. He must have gone down to treat himself."

Buttercup tilted her head, listening to the conversation but not participating. She continued to busy herself with dinner, pulling the garlic bread out of the oven and continuing to watch the pans on the stove.

Blossom looked down, trying to peer through the floors to the sub-basements. "It's still dark down there. I thought he used it mostly for storage these days anyway." Maybe his recent trip down there—for whatever he did to heal himself—was the reason for thinking of new stuff to do down there.

"Supper's done," Buttercup called, loud enough for Professor to hear. She pulled plates out of the cupboards for everyone.

Just before Blossom repeated Buttercup's call, Professor sat up in the recliner. Blossom grimaced in sympathy pain when he stood up and began walking. "Professor, are you sure you should be walking on that?"

He nodded. His full attention was still elsewhere, staring at the kitchen floor as he approached. He walked slowly, limping. Blossom pulled out a chair for him to sit in, and he accepted it without a word of thanks.

They ate in awkward silence. The girls finished first, despite lacking any real appetite. They waited for Professor to finish his meal.

When he did, Buttercup stood just behind him and picked up his plate. While she was leaning forward, she said something very softly.

"You're killing my family."

For the first time, Professor seemed to snap to attention. If he was still dulled by pain killers, he showed no sign of it when he asked, "What was that?"

Blossom and Bubbles were staring as well, wondering if they'd heard her right.

More loudly, Buttercup said, "I said, 'would you like seconds?'"

"Oh, I... No. No, thanks."

"Okay. We'll put the leftovers away, then."

Seeing Professor was apparently attentive now, Bubbles asked, "So are you sure you want to skip tonight's checkups?"

Professor did a double take between her and Buttercup before finally focusing on Bubbles. "The... Right. No, Bubbles, I think that'll be fine. You girls seem to be doing well."

"So you're not worried about us?" Bubbles pressed, eying Professor carefully. "About anything 'out of character?'"

"Of course you girls can come to me whenever you'd like. I think it's time I stop prying is all."

"Is that so?" Bubbles asked with an unfamiliar edge to her tone. "Well, then what about—"

Buttercup put her hands on her sister's shoulders, squeezing just hard enough to get her attention. She interrupted, "When are we gonna stop hiding out?"

Bubbles had been about to ask about the cameras, but suddenly thought better of it.

"Soon," Professor said dismissively. "We can call Sara tomorrow, if you'd like, and see what she thinks."

"Maybe we should do a night patrol?" Blossom asked. "It's gonna be harder for anyone to see us at night, and there's still all sorts of crime going on we can put a stop to."

"Oh, I'm not so sure that's a good idea."

Buttercup asked, "You don't think if we push our powers too hard they'll make us fall asleep again, do you?"

"I..." Professor stopped to consider this. "It's hard to say, actually. In fact...maybe it would be a good idea to push it. Just a little bit. Better now then after your big debut, right? In fact, why don't you girls slip out for an hour."

"But what about you, Professor?" Buttercup asked. "You sure you're all right?"

"Oh, I think I'm fine," he said. "I feel much better with a little food in me."

"You lost a bit of blood," Bubbles pointed out.

Professor dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "Don't worry. I know what I'm doing. But I should head down and try to clean up a little." With that, he stood up.

Blossom said, "Don't worry about it, Professor. We can take care of it for you."

"Nonsense. You girls shouldn't be mopping up your father's blood, of all things." He headed towards the lab. "Now, you girls run outside—but be careful. Maybe Blossom should do the work and the two of you can keep an eye on her. Not that I expect anything to happen, but just in case, do you understand?"

He continued heading downstairs, gripping the handrail tightly and favoring his injured leg.

The girls exchanged glances, nodded, and headed upstairs and outside.

Downstairs, Professor ignored his mess and the supply closet, instead heading for his protected inner lab.


	21. Midnight Corridors

Chapter 21  
[Midnight Corridors]

Professor sat at his computer and typed his special password. Though his leg slowed down his walking, his mind was quite alert. His eyes and hands deftly worked the computer, quickly bringing up a selection of video in the kitchen and homing in on one part in particular.

Mumbling.

"What was that?" he heard his muffled voice. Just as the thermal cameras had a limited ability to see through the walls, the microphones weren't always able to pick up sounds well enough.

"I said, 'would you like seconds?'" her voice replied.

He backed up and listened again. Once again, he could only make out mumbling.

He squinted his eyes and looked more closely. The cameras could make out general activities, but not facial expressions. He hadn't looked before, and now had no idea how Blossom and Bubbles had reacted. Had they heard what Buttercup said? Did Professor mishear her?

He spent several minutes in an audio editing program, trying to eliminate background noise and amplify Buttercup's words. Even after all that, they were all so much warbling garbage.

Professor paused the video and sat back, wondering.

* * *

"What's he doing in there?" Bubbles asked.

"Dunno," Blossom replied.

The three of them had left the house only to hover above it, using their penetrating vision from afar to observe Professor. Unfortunately, he was in the inner lab, shielded from their eyes and ears. The waiting was starting to wear on their nerves.

"So, uh, are we going to thwomp badguys or what?" Buttercup asked.

Blossom said, "We have bigger things to worry about. Professor was acting so strangely tonight. Maybe I'm being paranoid, but it really creeped me out."

"I'm glad it wasn't just me," Bubbles admitted. "And, uh... I wasn't sure I should say anything inside the house, but I'm not sure the ladder was an accident."

"Why's that?"

"Well, it's not like it was an old ladder or anything. All the other rungs were fine, but one was... Well, I think it was weakened. Like someone took a metal saw and cut most of the way through from behind. Where you probably wouldn't see it."

"Who would have done that? Or why?" Buttercup asked.

"This makes no sense," Blossom admitted. "Like the sabotaged power cord in your room. In fact, Professor wouldn't have even had a power line to fix today if not for that."

"Shh," Bubbles shushed. "He's coming out."

"He's going to the supply closet," Blossom narrated, as if her sisters weren't seeing the same thing she was.

"Looks like he's going to clean up," Bubbles said. "I don't know what he did to fix his leg, but he's still not walking right. I hope he doesn't hurt himself walking around like that."

Buttercup asked, "So, uh, what are we supposed to do again?"

"I don't know," Blossom admitted. "What do you girls think his problem is? Was it really just pain killers and an empty stomach?"

Bubbles added, "But he goes through the trouble of installing a new camera in Buttercup's new power line, the day after I sneak out, and then also gives up on the exams. Why?"

"Maybe because he doesn't trust us to answer the questions?" Blossom speculated.

"He's gotta know I snuck out and didn't tell him, but why wouldn't he trust Buttercup enough to leave her alone?"

They hovered in silence. Blossom was deep in concentration. Bubbles bit her lip and furrowed her brow. Buttercup crossed her arms and waited with what could have been impatience as easily as anything else.

Finally, Blossom said, "Girls, I think we should go speak to Ms. Bellum."

"Uh, why?" Buttercup asked.

"Because I don't know who else to turn to. Even if she can't help us now, at least we can let her know about our concerns."

Nobody objected. Nobody acted, either.

They stared down again, watching somberly as Professor mopped up the trail of blood he'd made in the lab.

Blossom's eyes drifted upstairs, slowly and idly sweeping the rooms while she was lost in thought. They were familiar, one and all. None perceptibly different than she remembered. Yet, somehow, this place was beginning to feel less like home each day.

From the ground floor her eyes swept up to the second story. Buttercup's room was less familiar, because Blossom was rarely welcomed there until recently. Strange that it felt more comfortable to her now.

Bubbles's room had been hers as well once. The colors, the carpet—almost all of it quite familiar to her. Some furnishings differed, and the walk-in closet was mostly full of Bubbles's own clothes. Even so, some memorabilia of their childhood together was stuffed in boxes on the closet shelves. Right next to a piece of notebook paper written on in red marker.

Blossom narrowed her eyes, looking more closely. The paper was slightly warped and wrinkled, as if it had been moist in the past. The way it stuck to the top of the shelf implied it was glued or pasted down. Yet, the writing was a nonsensical string of letters, numbers, and even a semicolon.

On impulse, Blossom's eyes swept rapidly to Buttercup's closet, wherein she spotted a similar paper with a different string of characters. Below, in Blossom's own room, was a third. She swept through the rest of the house, but found no more. Not in Professor's closet, nor the storage closets, nor—for the moment—anywhere else she could see.

"Girls, do you see those papers on our closet shelves?" Blossom waited for them to spot them. "Any idea what those mean?"

"Weird." Bubbles said. "I wonder who put them there?"

"Buttercup?" Blossom asked, wondering if her other sister had anything to say about it. She'd owned up to carving the word "YOU" into the wall at the Morbucks mansion, but Blossom couldn't fathom why she—or anyone—would have written these. Or, for that matter...

"No clue."

"Someone also wrote on my headboard with glow-in-the-dark ink," Blossom said. "Either of you know anything about that?"

They looked up at her curiously, shaking their heads.

"I found a note in the Konah Kids DVD case," Bubbles admitted. She swallowed, though her mouth was nearly dry, and added, "It was a piece of notebook paper with the word 'YOU' written on it. Kind of like at Princess's."

Blossom raised an eyebrow and looked at Buttercup. "Would you happen to know anything about that?" She still hadn't told Bubbles that Buttercup was responsible for the message at the Morbucks mansion.

Buttercup shook her head. "Nah, I didn't do that. But the day Professor first woke me up, the notepad we write grocery lists on had some stuff on it."

"What did it say?" Blossom pressed.

"It said, 'always sleep alone.'"

Bubbles asked, "Is that why you sneaked out of our slumber party?"

Buttercup nodded.

Blossom protested, "But the party was your idea! And while we're on the subject, is that why you told me off the other night?"

Buttercup frowned and cast her eyes downward. "I'm still sorry I was so mean about it."

"Wait," Bubbles said, barely restraining a giggle. "You asked Buttercup if you could...sleep..." Her voice trailed off, suddenly lost in some faint memory of her own.

"What did your headboard say?" Buttercup asked.

"It says, 'We are not ourselves.' Does that mean anything to you girls?"

They shook their heads, Bubbles lethargically.

"And what about these scraps of paper in the closets?" Blossom asked.

"Is it some kind of code?" Bubbles suggested.

"A code to what? Or do you mean an encoded message? If so, how would we find the key to decode it?"

"Maybe it's a computer password?"

Buttercup asked, "Why is it split up, then?"

Blossom glanced at each of them. It was certainly complicated. "If it is a password, then someone must really want to keep people out."

"Maybe we should memorize it," Bubbles suggested. "Just our own parts of it? Maybe that's why it's split up?"

Buttercup asked, "So that each piece is small enough for us to remember?"

Blossom narrowed her eyes in concern. "This is just too strange. Who wrote these notes? And why? I mean, what good was my note?" Even as she posed the question, her eye twitched as she remembered mindlessly quoting and paraphrasing the line several times.

"Well, I think mine might have helped me remember stuff, eventually," Bubbles said.

Buttercup added, "And Professor's been watching us like hawks for anything weird, and I guess maybe he'd think it would be weird for me to bunk with anyone."

"I... I guess I accidentally told Professor we weren't ourselves lately. Maybe because I'd read the message, maybe not."

Bubbles asked, "Could this be the password to Professor's computer in the 'inner lab?'"

Buttercup answered, "I thought it was 'BlossomBubblesButtercup1998.' I guessed it when I was waiting in there for our big family pow-wow."

Blossom said, "Then I guess the password won't do much good until we figure out what it goes to. A different user account? A password-protected document?"

"Should we memorize it?" Bubbles asked.

"I... I suppose it wouldn't do any harm. Let's not take too long, though. We still need to go to Ms. Bellum tonight."

Her sisters nodded, then squinted at the house as they read from on high.

"Do you think Ashley left the notes?" Bubbles eventually asked. "Professor thought she'd messed with Buttercup's power cords."

"It's possible," Blossom replied dismissively. Even if it were true, it still didn't explain why or what it meant.

Buttercup objected. "But how come my notes were the next ones on the pad? I mean, the bread and bologna were a little old, but not three years old. Professor must have gone shopping some time. And how could she have written Bubbles's note before the Harvester even existed? Are we saying she could see the future?"

"Good points," Blossom conceded. "But for now, let's quiz each other on these password pieces and go see Ms. Bellum."


	22. Station

Chapter 22  
[Station]

In the dark, the girls were less concerned about being seen. They flew to Sara Bellum's home as quickly as they could without leaving streaks of light in the sky, and soon touched down. They landed by the sliding glass doors separating the outdoor swimming pool from the interior of her home.

A short while after they knocked, Sara came into view. Her movements were cautious, uncertain who was rapping on the glass. When she saw the girls, however, she relaxed and came to let them in.

"Girls, you startled me. What are you doing out at this hour?"

Blossom launched into an explanation. "Ms. Bellum, we came to let you know something strange might be going on."

"Strange? Wh—"

"I'll try to make this fast, and I know it's going to sound paranoid, but we're worried about the Professor's state of mind."

"Oh," she said. Her expression softened, leaving only a vague trace of worry and confusion.

"He broke his leg badly while we were out today, but he treated himself and refuses to see a doctor." Blossom continued speaking while Sara closed the sliding glass door behind them. "We've also become aware of surveillance equipment throughout the house, and just today he was working on replacing a damaged camera inside Buttercup's room." Blossom followed behind as Ms. Bellum moved to her television set.

"At the same time, he's decided to stop doing checkups on us. We're just not sure what to make of all these mixed signals."

"I see," Ms. Bellum said. She picked up a remote set near the television, pushing a button as she did so.

A series of loud pops and hissing spread throughout the house. A faint, acrid mist spread as it was ejected from random locations. Barely audible over this were the hard, mechanical sounds of locks engaging.

"I'd better call Professor," she said. Her calm made it seem as if she hadn't even noticed what had just happened.

The girls were confused. Blossom reached out and began asking a question. Buttercup stood with her mouth agape, stunned. Bubbles's eyes grew wide and she cried out in denial.

"Ms. Bellum, what—" Blossom began.

"Blossom! Our powers!" Bubbles interrupted. She bolted for the sliding glass door and found herself unable to pull it open.

"I'll be just a moment, girls," Ms. Bellum said, her cell phone now in hand. She turned to face them as she lifted it to her ear. At the same time, she pressed her other hand against her temple and winced, seeming to be fighting a headache.

"No!" Buttercup cried out, rushing Ms. Bellum. "Don't call him! Don't call him!"

Blossom wasn't certain what to do, so she joined Buttercup. Between the two of them, they managed to take the phone from her hand. Blossom glanced down after hanging up. The phone said the call only lasted two seconds. She hoped that including ringing and that Professor never picked up.

Blossom's heart sank when she realized how desperately she wanted to keep Professor out of this. She didn't allow herself to dwell on that notion for long, however. She called to Bubbles and tossed her the phone, which she caught handily.

"Ms. Bellum, I'm going to have to ask you to sit down and explain exactly what's going on here."

Ms. Bellum began walking towards Bubbles, who was fiddling with the phone. "Certainly, but I must call Professor first."

"Oh, no," Blossom said, body blocking her with Buttercup's help. "Talk first. Now."

"I must call Professor immediately!" she screamed. Her sudden vigor startled Blossom, and Ms. Bellum managed to slip by. Blossom grabbed and tried to hold her back.

Bubbles looked up, then started running from the incoming threat. Blossom and Buttercup struggled to bring Ms. Bellum down to the floor.

Bubbles stopped on the other side of the couch and finished fiddling with the phone. "I texted Professor that Ms. Bellum accidentally butt-dialed him."

She almost had to scream to be heard over Ms. Bellum, who was now a screaming mess of smeared makeup and tears. Her cries, when they were intelligible, were always, "I must call Professor!"

"Go hide the phone!" Blossom ordered.

Bubbles nodded and ran off to some unseen part of the house. A short while later she returned.

Blossom was trying to console Ms. Bellum and talk sense into her, but it didn't seem to get through.

When Bubbles returned, Blossom let go and tried again. "Ms. Bellum, please just listen to me! We just want to talk."

Ms. Bellum's voice was growing hoarse, but she still only cried back that she must call Professor. She climbed to her feet and ran the direction that Bubbles had come from. Bubbles glanced at Blossom for direction, but she just gently shook her head. Bubbles stood aside and let Ms. Bellum charge through unmolested.

The girls followed after, watching as she darted into her bedroom. They remained at the ready, uncertain what she might try.

"Ms. Bellum, if it'll make you feel better we'll let you call Professor after you finish speaking with us."

Continuing her desperate screaming, she threw open her drawers and tossed out their contents. Pillows were hurled and bed covers thrown aside.

"Buttercup," Blossom ordered, "you look for a way out of the house."

She nodded in reply and ran off.

Blossom eventually gave up on trying to calm Ms. Bellum. After a while, it seemed unlikely they'd get answers out of her even if she did calm. Her voice grew more hoarse and strained, and her screams degenerated into hoarse whispers. And then into little more than exhaled breath and flapping lips. Even if she found the phone at this point, she wasn't speaking to anyone.

Blossom sniffled and wiped away a tear. Ms. Bellum completely ignored them, instead tearing apart her house looking for her hidden phone.

Bubbles took Blossom's hand and squeezed it. Blossom looked over to find her crying as well.

"Where is it?" Blossom whispered.

"Inside the vacuum cleaner," Bubbles whispered back.

Blossom had seen the vacuum in the closet earlier. Ms. Bellum had rummaged through it before moving to the bathroom, and had thankfully overlooked the phone. "Soak it in water. I'll be right behind you."

Bubbles left just as Buttercup arrived. "Everything's locked."

"Find hammers or something heavy. Let's try to break out."

"Roger," she replied, vanishing.

Blossom watched a short while longer, only long enough to ensure Ms. Bellum didn't leave the room while Bubbles was ruining the phone.

They met in the kitchen adjoining the living room, near the glass patio doors. Ms. Bellum hadn't ransacked the kitchen yet, but the girls made up for it by tearing it apart themselves. They found a hammer in a junk drawer.

Buttercup swung with all her might, stinging her hands when the glass did not give way. There was a only small mark where she'd struck it.

"Reinforced glass?" Blossom said, shaking her head. "Bubbles, go get those screwdrivers and meet us at the front door. Buttercup, come with me."

Ms. Bellum wandered in as they made their way to the front door. Her movements were growing as weak as her voice, unable to keep up the frantic pace of her search. Listlessly, sofa cushions were tossed aside.

Blossom said, "I'm going to unscrew the doorknob and deadbolt. You girls use the flathead screwdriver and the hammer and try to pull the pins out of those hinges."

They worked in silence, for the moment choosing to avoid talking about the strange situation. The girls cringed when they heard the television come crashing to the floor, but Ms. Bellum was seemingly leaving them alone.

Bubbles and Buttercup eventually had to stop to pull in a chair from the living room, so they could get more leverage against the top hinge. Blossom wasn't sure whether they'd finish with the hinges first or she with the locks, but she didn't care who won this particular race.

With the last pin out of the hinges, Bubbles and Buttercup started prying along the edge of the door with the hammer's claw and, for the heck of it, the screwdriver. Blossom meanwhile wriggled the latch and deadbolt out of the way and hooked her fingers through the holes she'd exposed.

Although the door should be completely free now, their combined efforts were accomplishing nothing. After a minute or two of refusing to accept this, they eventually gave in.

"Okay, this isn't working," Blossom admitted. "Anybody have any other ideas?"

The weary, defeated looks she received in return said enough.

In the idle silence, Blossom heard the distant sound of a hair dryer. Likely, Ms. Bellum had found her phone soaking in the kitchen sink. Not that the hair dryer would do any good, at least in the near term.

"All right, if we assume all the entryways are secured, maybe the weakest points are going to be structural. We'll find a section of wall that isn't glass and—"

The front door make a heavy click sound. The girls turned to look at it, and soon after heard a thud as something kicked it from the other side, knocking it off its hinges.

They backpedaled as the door came falling down. On other other side stood a man in a white labcoat, his face obscured by a gas mask. He lifted a nozzle that could have come from a fire extinguisher, its line running to a tank on his back.

A hiss accompanied a burst of gas from the nozzle. The girls covered their mouths and tried not to breathe, turning and running away.

Blossom made it the farthest. Almost three whole steps before her legs gave way and she met the ground. Before she knew it, the world went black.


	23. Desolation

Chapter 23  
[Desolation]

Blossom heard voices. Some distant part of her urgently tried to open her eyes, and she almost hurt herself in the strain it took to finally open them.

"...the girls tonight." Professor's voice said. Blossom was staring at the ceiling of her father's laboratory. She was afraid to move her head to look around, afraid to draw attention to herself. She closed her eyes again and listened.

"I understand," Ms. Bellum replied blankly. Her voice seemed restored, but her too-flat tone was too unusual not to notice.

"Mightn't you please forget that you've seen, heard from, or heard about the girls in the last few weeks?"

"Yes."

"Mightn't you please remember that you and I met at my house the other day to catch up on things, and that I told you the girls were still deep in their healing comas?"

"Yes, I remember."

"Mightn't you please ride back with me and clean up your house?"

"Of course."

Blossom heard a soft sound as Ms. Bellum slid out of a chair, then the click-clop of high heels on the concrete floor. Softer sounds of soft-soled shoes followed. The door at the top of the stairs opened and then closed.

Eerie silence followed.

Blossom sucked in a startled breath when Bubbles asked, "Are they gone?"

She drew in a deeper breath to steady herself and said, "I think so."

Blossom tried to sit up and found that she was strapped to a gurney. She turned her head to one side and then the other, seeing her sisters restrained on their own gurneys beside her. Buttercup struggled against her restraints, jerking her arms up the fraction of an inch the straps around her body permitted.

"I don't think that's going to work," Blossom said, her voice little more than a breathy whisper, but still easily heard in the silence between Buttercup's struggles.

"Somethings gotta work!" she retorted, jerking again for emphasis. Bubbles began to do likewise.

Blossom sighed. She wasn't sure what they would do. Even if they got out, they were still powerless, and they had every reason to believe their house was at least as secure as Ms. Bellum's.

Although...there was the cabinet of Chemical X. Perhaps Professor hadn't bothered to change the code?

Blossom joined them in their struggles. It might not do any good, but she'd just have to try and see. She jerked and strained, pulling as hard as she could. In addition to a strap around her chest and waist, her wrists were each bound in their own cuffs. She probably had less motion available than her sisters. Still, after a short break, she drew in a sharp breath and tried again.

At the peak, she strained, and was surprised to feel the right strap stretching ever so slightly. After another short break, she jerked and strained again. After only her second try, she now had more than an inch of give to work with. Ignoring the burning in her muscles, she began slamming her arm up and down in quick succession. The gurney made clattering sounds and began to roll slightly as she did so.

The cuff snapped free from the gurney, and she could move her arm.

Her heart pounded and her neck muscles burned as she tried and failed to see what she was doing. Her right hand blindly fumbled for the buckle over her left, and soon she had two free hands and began working on her chest strap.

Her pace was frantic, and at one point she had to take care to avoid hyperventilating. As soon as she could be, she was on her feet and at Buttercup's side. Then the two of them freed Bubbles.

Only then did Blossom attempt to remove the broken cuff from her right wrist. It was still buckled securely, and had merely broken free from the gurney. She set her wrist on a counter for stability while fumbling with the buckle with her other hand.

She stopped. The leather strap had been connected to the gurney with a single rivet, through a hole in the end of the strap. Below that hole, a line had been torn when Blossom broke free. However, only the outward side of the leather was visibly torn. The inward side had been scored beforehand, cleanly cut. Not unlike the sabotaged stepladder.

While Blossom pondered this, her sisters' helping hands undid the buckle for her and tossed the cuff away.

Bubbles said, "We gotta go before Professor gets back!"

"Right," Blossom said, though still not sure what they were dealing with. She was sure, however, that she'd rather deal with it on their terms. She ran over to the Chemical X cabinet and punched in the code Professor had shared with all of them.

They keypad blinked green and the latch came undone. Blossom reached in and grabbed three small vials.

Once again, she stopped.

"What's wrong?" Buttercup asked.

Blossom worked it over in her head.

"Professor doesn't trust us," she said.

Bubbles rolled her eyes. "Ye-ahhh. Newsflash."

"Take these, but don't drink them," Blossom said. "Except as a last resort. Professor was keeping us physically locked inside the house—why would he give us access to Chemical X?"

Buttercup protested, "But he gave us our powers back eventually."

"I don't remember him doing it with Chemical X from this cabinet, do you?" Blossom retorted. "At least not that any of us actually saw."

Bubbles asked, "You think it's fake?"

"Nah," Buttercup replied instead. "I took some of it once right before he woke Blossom, and it knocked me out just like he said it might. But I crushed the glass in my hand and didn't get hurt."

"Last resort," Blossom reiterated. "First let's see if we can get luckier here than we did at Ms. Bellum's."

They climbed the stairs leading out of the lab, only to find the door was locked.

"Umm...last resort?" Buttercup asked.

Blossom frowned. "Not yet. Do you think Dynamo still works? Maybe we could exit from its launch bay?"

Bubbles went to the elevator to the lower laboratories, her sisters close on her heels. "It's a keypad, too," she said. She tried punching in the code they used on the Chemical X cabinet, but nothing happened.

"Let's try this," Buttercup said, walking over to one of the counters. She picked up the lump of not-really-clay and flipped it over. There, they saw the rough outline of a key.

"Where did that come from?" Blossom asked.

"I copied it from one of Professor's keys during my checkup. I just kinda...felt like it."

Blossom took it and tried to pry the key loose. However, she might as well have been trying to bend metal in her bare hands, which wasn't currently an option. The base of the hand-molded key was still stuck firmly to the lump. Just the very end, but still enough to hold it firm.

"Hold on," Blossom said, handing it to Buttercup. She went to the back part of the lab and picked up a power tool. It was a hand-held grinder, cordless and powered by a fission battery. Its grinding blade looked worn and seemed oddly stained, perhaps rusty, but she hoped it would do the job.

"Hold it down, girls," Blossom ordered. "I'll try to be careful."

Mere seconds later, the key was loose. Blossom set the grinder down and followed after Bubbles, who was carrying the key to the top of the stairs.

"It doesn't fit," Bubbles said.

Blossom sighed. "Well, I guess it was too much to hope for a hand-molded key to work."

"Let me try," Buttercup requested. Bubbles handed her the key and stepped aside.

"It's not even the right shape," Bubbles clarified. "It won't go in."

Buttercup was realizing this herself. She sneered, raising her hand to throw the key down.

Blossom caught her wrist, and with her other hand retrieved the key. Buttercup gave her a sad, pitiable look. The look of someone who needed saving.

Blossom headed downstairs, to the door leading to the inner lab. The key slid into the doorknob and, with a little wriggling, turned it.

"Great," Bubbles said. "You copied the key to this stupid place. Too bad there's no way out through there."

"Let's try that password from earlier. Do you girls still remember your parts?"

"I...think so," Bubbles said. "You think we might be able to control the locks or something? Or find the codes to the lower labs or Dynamo?"

"It's worth a try."

"What about this saw?" Buttercup asked, pointing to the grinder. "Could we just cut our way out?"

Blossom stared at it with narrowed eyes, thinking. "I don't think so. That grinder won't cut deep enough to get through a door or even its latch. I think I've got a better idea."


	24. Shattered Waltz

Chapter 24  
[Shattered Waltz]

Professor shuffled into the kitchen. Helping Sara put her house in order had been a strain on his leg. The serum had regenerated most of the tissue, but the bone itself was still on the mend. Several times he'd considered convincing Sara she'd been robbed and to call the police, and each time he decided it was too risky. Better to endure the strain and put things in order.

In the end, he gave up on cleaning the house, instead fixing the front door. He told her the chip in the glass was the result of an errant bird. He'd have to replace the glass later—then convince her it had never been damaged to begin with.

He wasn't certain how well this would work, but he instructed her to clean up the house, then promptly forget it was ever ransacked in the first place and go to bed. It would probably keep her busy hours into the night, so he encouraged her to take a personal day and rest up. Must be one of those summer colds.

After finally returning to his home, he locked the garage door behind him and leaned heavily against it. He dropped his keys on the counter for the moment while he paused to rub his dry, tired eyes. A glance at the microwave clock revealed it was well past eleven. He'd had much later nights in his life, but his habit of waking up early to check the house recordings meant the long day was putting a strain on him.

He turned on the coffee maker. It wouldn't do any good now, but he'd at least get a few cups later. This was going to be a long night.

He picked his keys back up and headed to the laboratory door. At least the girls weren't screaming for help. They should have woken up from the knockout gas long before now. Maybe it wasn't too much to hope they'd simply fallen asleep, strapped down with nothing better to do.

Once he'd opened the basement door, he listened. Only silence met his ears. He pushed the door open and crept down the stairs as well as his injured leg and heavy steps allowed. Step. Step. One of the stairs squeaked under his weight. Step. Step.

He stopped. The gurneys were empty.

His eyes swept through the room as he continued his descent. If it were possible, even slower than he had been. Step... Step...

Once he reached the concrete floor, his steps sounded softer. He circled around the counters, checking behind them as he passed. Eventually, he limped over to the gurneys. A few drops of blood decorated Blossom's gurney, near a missing wrist strap. Professor touched his fingers to the drops, then rubbed his fingertips together. It was not yet fully dry.

Slowly his eyes swept up from his fingers, following a sparse trail of droplets. He limped along, towards the elevator to the lower labs. The keypad was separated from the wall, hanging loosely by the wires behind it. On the floor sat a metal grinder and a bent paperclip. Professor pulled the keypad aside, looking behind it. Had they actually bypassed it?

Professor took the pad in one hand and punched in numbers with the other. The elevator door immediately opened, so at least the keypad was still working.

He sighed. There was no surveillance in the lower labs. This was mostly because there was a lot of space to cover if he ever decided to go that route. Unfortunately, that also meant he had a long search ahead of himself.

Shuffling to the corner, he picked up and shouldered the tank of knockout gas. He'd planned to refill it and put it back. As it turned out, he wasn't done with it.

He grunted. The weight was an uncomfortable thing, especially on his injured leg. Already his breathing increased, which quickly became a nuisance after he slipped on the gas mask.

Steps slightly louder and breath audible through the filter of his gas mask, he shambled over to the elevator. At least the girls had left their tools behind, so they might well be stuck on whichever floor they'd gone to. At least, unless they found a way to bypass the keypads on the other floors as well.

He started with the button to the lowest level, which included access to the giant mecha, Dynamo. It was one of the few things in the lower labs that the girls were familiar with, and a likely choice for an escape attempt. Fortunately for him, he'd pulled out its reactor to power the new bio lab some time ago.

He walked into the large, open space of the Dynamo launch bay. He grabbed a lever near the elevator and pushed it up, bathing the previously dark room in bright, white light. It was pitch dark before the lights were turned on. If the girls had come down here, there's no way they could find their way around without some kind of light.

He scanned the area. Behind spare parts and consoles, there were some hiding places. It was feasible they'd heard the elevator descending and had shut off the lights before hiding. Feasible, but unlikely.

The elevator closed behind him. He took it as a sign to start walking.

He only made it twenty feet before the elevator started moving again.

Simultaneously muffled and exaggerated by the mask, he sucked in a breath as he turned on his heel. The girls weren't in the elevator—not yet, at any rate. He was sure of that. He was now doubting they'd ever been in it.

When he'd punched in the code upstairs, the elevator had already been waiting at the top. Someone could have sent it back up empty, but why bother? The blood, the tools, the dislodged but still functional keypad... They'd left a clear trail to follow. And, like a fool, he'd followed it.

Professor limped over and punched in the code again. He couldn't stop the elevator's ascent, but he could try to bring it back down to him as soon as possible. Worst case, someone could punch in every possible floor and slow its descent.

Panting inside the mask, Professor leaned against the wall and waited. And waited.

Eventually, he heard the sound of the elevator descending. Pulling himself together, he planted his feet firmly and lifted the nozzle, ready to spray the elevator car just in case.

The doors slid open and he shot a few spurts into it. He waited to let the gas clear so he could see better. It seemed to be empty, but he entered cautiously. Still nothing.

There was no telling where the girls might be now, but in the end the situation wasn't much different than he had originally thought. If anything, he could rule out the bottom floor.

He pondered which button to push next, considering the places where the girls might cause the most trouble. There were no easy escapes from the lower labs, but there were things he'd rather they not come near. The most important of these were well-hidden, but still...

Inside the mask, Professor frowned and pursed his lips as he thought. Then his tired, bloodshot eyes widened when he realized the real worst case scenario. His hands went to the keys in his pocket as his mind went back to his arrival in the basement. He remembered holding his keys in his pocket so they wouldn't jingle as he went down the basement stairs. He still felt them in his pocket now.

In fact, he'd never taken them out to lock the basement door when he came down.

He pressed the button for the top floor, the main laboratory. The rest of the house was securely locked even if the basement door was wide open. But if there were any exits available they would be from the house, not from the lower labs. He had to look there first.

The elevator rose only a few feet before it suddenly dropped. Professor cried in pain and fell onto his rear, the sudden jolt sending a bolt of pain through his injured shin. Shortly after, he heard a strange pattering sound on the roof of the elevator. Trying to think through the resurgence of pain, he wondered what it was.

The cable, he decided. They'd cut the cable, and he could just imagine it falling into a heap on the elevator roof.

He yanked off his mask and cried out in a mixture of pain, anger, and frustration. He slipped the backpack off before climbing to his feet. A button push opened the door, and he walked back into the Dynamo bay. Soon he dragged a small stepladder back with him and popped the ceiling hatch. With a grunt of effort forced out by his aging body, he pulled himself up to the darkened elevator shaft.

Sitting to catch his breath, he pulled a penlight from his pocket and shone it around. He clicked it back off after he spotted the service ladder running up the side of the shaft. Staring upward, he saw light spilling into the shaft several stories up.

Wearing a weary, determined expression, he pulled himself up and began what would be a long, unpleasant climb.


	25. Different Past

Chapter 25  
[Different Past]

Blossom sat in front of the computer in the inner lab. Moving the mouse, a screen came up showing that someone was logged in, but a password was required.

"User name...Rebreather?" Blossom read.

"Earlier I just used 'Utonium,'" Buttercup said.

"Wanna try the password?" Bubbles asked, gently rubbing the back of her hand. A piece of gauze was taped over it. Bubbles had volunteered—practically insisted, actually—that she be the one to leave the trail of blood to the elevator.

"May as well. Let me see...there are three of us, and three pieces of the password, so that's...six variations at most? We'll try mine, then Bubbles's, then Buttercup's first."

Blossom typed her part, hoping she'd gotten it right. If they made mistakes, there could be way more than six tries involved here. She shifted to the side so her sisters could take turns bending forward to use the keyboard.

After Buttercup finished, Blossom pressed enter and breathed a sigh of relief when the lock window disappeared.

Blue flared up on some of the screens as camera feeds came up. Aside from the mosaic, one screen was dedicated to a view of the kitchen.

"There it is again," Blossom said, ignoring the cameras for the moment. A folder on the desktop read "Project Rebreather." Other folders read "Video Archive," "Tissue Growth," "Brain Scans," "Reconditioning," and "Miscellaneous."

"What's in it?" Bubbles asked.

Blossom opened it and saw various numbered folders. "Round 1," Blossom muttered, opening the first of the folders. There were a series of documents and other files, but she beelined for the file named "Research Notes." For now, she ignored the oddly-named pictures, spreadsheets, and other file types she didn't recognize.

Blossom skimmed, reading highlights aloud as she went. "Subjects G, R, B... B best preserved...possibly most responsive... Using subject G as a proof of concept...consequences of failure easier to accept... Okay... Um. 'I declared the subject non-responsive and proceeded to terminate the trial. However, as I did so I noted the subject's eyes were following me. I rechecked vital signs and confirmed no pulse or breath. Verified flow of regenerative agent was indeed off. Subject was not responsive to following my finger or my pen light, and did not respond to verbal commands to move her eyes or blink. Subject instead locked eyes with mine whenever possible. Cessation of motion occurred at approximately T-04:27. Recommend monitoring of brain activity for future trails.'"

Blossom soon closed the document and skimmed other files in the folder. None of it was decipherable.

Worry showed in Buttercup's voice. "What did he mean by...no pulse? No breath?"

"What's the next one say?" Bubbles asked.

Blossom navigated to "Round 2" and opened its research notes.

"Subject G not notably deteriorated following previous test... Repeating with regenerative agent RA-07... Subject vitals not responsive to chest compressions... Eyes again followed..." Blossom closed it and moved on to round 3. "RA-12... Electrolytes... Achieved unstable vitals for approximately forty-seven seconds... Heart rate...spiked...overexertion..."

Round 4. "RA-13... Remained out of G's visual field... Heard unusual breathing that might have been whispering or attempts at speech... Entered subject's view...blood pressure and heart rate increased... Subject death at T-11:23."

"Skip ahead," Bubbles requested. There were dozens of rounds here.

"Round 17," Blossom announced. "RA-46... Subject R... No major change in behavior... Responded to questioning... 'R's responses were stream-of-consciousness. Possibly not responses so much as her thoughts drifting in response to my questions. Brain activity indicative of some blend of seizure and R.E.M. sleep patterns.'

"Round 33. Abject failure... Mockery of life... Found B in the bathroom gnawing on her finger. G attacked me with a knife while I was bandaging B. R and G continuing to demonstrate unhealthy degrees and forms of affection... Experiment terminated at T-3 hours, 15 minutes, approx."

"Round 51," Blossom announced, opening the final folder. "Continuing signs of recollection... Minds polluted... Surveillance records say it all... Abandoning Rebreather for fear of further sample contamination."

"Which surveillance records?" Buttercup asked.

"I dunno... This file is dated...yeah, almost two years ago. Let me check the video archives."

The video archives folder stretched back a little more than two years. It was organized into folders by years, then months, then days. Blossom worked her way to what should have been the end of round 51.

The archive opened in its own program, showing both a tiny mosaic and a larger video, like a smaller version of the live feeds shown on the other two monitors.

As Blossom moved the mouse cursor over the mosaic, the larger window changed again and again to display whichever camera her mouse passed over. At the same time, the sounds from that camera could be heard over the speakers. Blossom moved her mouse from tile to tile. The archive started right at midnight, but there was plenty of activity.

A large blob that was probably Professor moved through a room. Muffled cries could be heard. Blossom moved her mouse to a hallway camera and heard Bubbles's voice crying out as she pounded on Professor's bedroom door.

"You killed me, you son of a bitch! You cocksu—"

Blossom listened in open-mouthed shock as Bubbles's expletives only increased in potency, as if she were stricken with an excessively rude and creative form of Tourette's. When she recovered her senses enough, she moved to another part of the house.

In what Blossom thought was her bedroom, she saw a heat form on the bed. Her arms were wrapped around her knees as she rocked back and forth. Her sobs were faint in the poor microphone, but still recognizable as such.

Down in the basement, they watched what must have been Buttercup climbing a ladder against the wall. A loud, whirring sound started as something in her hand began to grow warmer. The girls recognized it as the sound of the metal grinder they'd used themselves not long ago.

Sparks of heat began to fly out, and they heard a loud pop. In the mosaic, they saw Bubbles stumble back. Blossom moved to the hallway camera just as Professor opened his bedroom door. He raised his hand and there were two more loud pops. The barrel of the gun began to glow slightly with warmth. Bubbles fell onto her back, clutching her stomach and crying in pain. Professor stood over her and pointed the gun down, firing once more into her chest.

The girls saw parts of the mosaic randomly go black as Buttercup cut through the various power lines running down into the electrical box. Soon, the whole house was dark.

Blossom's hand was shaking as it hovered over the mouse. She finally remembered to breathe, and found her breath as shaky as her hand.

For a long while, nobody said anything.

Bubbles broke the silence. "I wasn't sure if I should say anything before. But when I started remembering stuff... I didn't remember anything about healing comas. I remembered thinking you girls were dead. Like...dead, dead. I... I think I was... I was probably dead, too."

"So," Blossom began, forcing an unnatural calmness and steadiness to her voice. "We can possibly assume that Project Rebreather was an effort to develop a regenerative agent to revive our dead bodies." She wrapped her arms around herself when they started to quiver, but her voice held steady. "Subjects R, G, and B likely refer to us. In any case, Project Rebreather was apparently abandoned almost two years ago, which begs the question...where did we come from?"

"I want to know, too," Bubbles admitted. "But I think I've seen enough for now. Is there any kind of control program or list of security codes or anything we can use?"

"We can check the Miscellaneous folder," Blossom said, moving to do just that. She muttered to herself as she read, finding the monotonous act soothing. "Bellum. Harvester. Morbucks. Security."

"Try security," Bubbles prompted. Blossom opened and started skimming. These appeared to be shorthand notes to self, not nearly as organized or coherent as the project notes. "Key-only locks. Trick locks? Reinforced glass. Cameras—thermal, inside walls. Camouflage with power line. Keypad elevators. Keypad Chem X cabinet. Maybe grant access to cabinet, instead mix in sedative." So much for their "last resort" Chemical X vials. "Nonlethal termination. Maybe gas? Secure backup."

"Seriously? That's all?" Buttercup asked.

"What does 'Bellum' say?" Bubbles asked.

Blossom opened it. "Healing coma. Harvester. Hard hypnotic suggestion? Stronger influence than girls, but less common phrase? Secure her home. If girls act strange or act out against me."

Blossom moved on to the next file in the list, named "Harvester." "Scapegoat. Bellum corroborate. Farmer? Lone farmer with no alibi? Hide body or destroy?"

Then to "Morbucks." "His investigators might know too much. Morbucks calling them off ideal? Hypnotic triggers? Visit quarterly to annually for refresher? Must leave Townsville to avoid memory triggers and relapse. Consider more permanent solutions as last resort."

"I don't like the vibes here," Buttercup said.

Blossom added, "This... This isn't our dad, is it?"

"Keep looking," Bubbles pressured, her voice only a hair nicer than impolite.

Blossom was running out of likely suspects. She picked the "Brain Scans" folder next, finding the name interesting but hoping it was a series of undecipherable pictures she could quickly rule out and ignore.

First she saw a layer of folders, starting with CS-01. At CS-13, they split into pairs like CS-13A and CS-13B. Inside CS-01 were more project notes.

"'Project Clean Slate. Objective. To transplant scrubbed memories into new bodies (see Tissue Growth research line). Primary Assertion. A person's thoughts, memories, and experience are the whole of their existence. Secondary Assertions. Transplantation into a clonal form with no prior neural activity allows for clean implantation with no interference from past experiences. Use of new bodies allows originals to remain in stable condition. Use of new bodies for each experiment allows for refinement of memory scrubbing over time. Use of new bodies for each experiment avoids problems of memories from previous trials carrying over, in part or in whole, to future trials.' Starting with subject G...most problematic in Project Rebreather...

"'This is an unprecedented opportunity to continue an idea emerging late in Project Rebreather. Subject has certain core characteristics that are desirable, but due to—'"

"Wait," Bubbles cautioned. "Look at the cameras."

The girls hadn't heard the distant drone of the garage door, possibly because the inner lab was so well shielded from the outside world. However, they saw the warm form of what was probably Professor in the kitchen. Through the speakers they heard the clank of his keys setting down on the counter, still faintly warm from his body heat.

They waited and watched as he set on a pot of coffee, then grabbed his keys and headed for the basement door.

Bubbles ran to the door to the inner lab and locked it, then returned to watch the screen.

Blossom identified one of the cameras for the basement lab and switched to it. They heard his heavy footsteps through the computer and the computer alone. He might as well have been a million miles away, but it felt like he was standing right behind them.

It was hard to tell whether he really was moving that slowly, or whether it only felt like it was taking forever. Their sense of anticipation grew as he investigated the gurneys, then followed the trail they'd left to the elevator.

"Yes!" Bubbles whispered hoarsely. "He opened it!" Shortly after, she added, "No! Don't walk away! What are you doing?"

They continued watching as Professor hefted some kind of tank on his back and donned a mask, both of which blocked his body heat enough to be noticed on the camera.

"Even better," Blossom said once Professor headed back to the elevator. As soon as the door closed, Blossom said, "All right, girls, let's move out!"


	26. Not Home

Chapter 26  
[Not Home]

Blossom couldn't help but hesitate when she reached the door of the inner lab. She'd seen Professor enter the elevator on the camera, but could she be certain he'd actually gone down? Was it possible he was still trying to figure out what floor to visit? Maybe he was just waiting in hiding, ready to pop back out of the elevator as soon as they left the inner lab?

Now wasn't the time to think like that. Their plan would need time, and even if they pulled it off they'd need yet more time to find a way out of the house.

They scattered as soon as they ran out of the room. Blossom detoured to pick up a jar of powder she'd identified earlier. The other girls grabbed the sabotaged ladder that had caused Professor to break his leg. They began checking that the other rungs were safe.

Blossom set down the jar and picked up a pair of surgical gloves far too big for her hands. She put them on anyway and opened the jar, slowing down to carefully pour some into her hand before setting the lid loosely back in place.

She picked up the keypad carefully in one hand and poured the powder onto it with the other. The compound reacted with many oils, causing them to smolder and burn. Professor's fingerprints wouldn't have deposited much, but hopefully it was enough to be noticed.

Blossom backed off and fully tightened the lid on the dangerous jar, pushing it aside and grabbing a rag. Back at the keypad, slightly darkened areas were appearing. They looked like residue from packing tape that had been peeled off from something. It wasn't great, but it was good enough to see which buttons had been touched.

"One, two, three, five." Blossom did some rough math in her head. If it was a four digit code with no numbers repeated, that represented a few dozen possible combinations. If just one number was repeated just one time... She wasn't sure, but thousands of codes seemed a likely minimum.

For now, she decided to start with the four digit codes. She wiped the pad clean with the rag but kept her gloves on just in case. The last thing she needed was chemical burns on her hands. She worked through the codes in a methodical pattern so she could more easily keep track of her progress in her head. 1235. 1253. 1325. 1352. And so on it went.

The girls joined her, but said nothing to interrupt her concentration. Finally, a green light flashed. "3521," Blossom said. She pulled off the gloves and threw them aside. "Ladder?"

"The other rungs are fine," Bubbles said.

"Okay. So who's going to go out? Buttercup?"

She didn't respond. Blossom turned around to see her standing sheepishly. "I'm afraid to," she said.

"All right, I'll go," Blossom replied.

"No!" Buttercup protested, surging forward and embracing her. "Please, I'll do it!"

"I'll do it," Bubbles said. Her determination left no room for argument. She picked up the metal grinder and stood back. Blossom and Buttercup exchanged looks of mixed worry and relief, then picked up the ladder and waited.

Bubbles stood just to the side of the elevator. "The door upstairs is open, at least," she pointed out to fill the silence.

"I noticed," Blossom said. She and Buttercup lifted the lightweight aluminum ladder and adjusted their grip so they could charge forward if needed. If Professor were in the elevator when it opened, they could hopefully knock him down and buy some time.

The elevator was empty.

Bubbles darted inside and fired up the grinder. Blossom and Buttercup awkwardly positioned the ladder to block the outer elevator doors, but not the inner ones. This would have been difficult enough, but they had to awkwardly position the latter at the top to leave room for Bubbles to leave.

Bubbles shut off the grinder. She'd only needed to break the lock to the button panel. Inside was a safety override that she and her sisters had been forced to use years ago after some small disaster in the Dynamo bay. Today they needed to disable the safeties again.

Next, she pushed the buttons for all the floors below them and darted out before the door closed. Blossom and Buttercup held the ladder carefully, knowing that going too far in or out could ruin their best and only plan.

Fortunately, the inner doors closed unobstructed and the elevator car began to lower. With the outer doors held open, the dark shaft came into view. The girls breathed a collective sigh of relief, but there was still work to do.

Bubbles stood aside while her sisters pushed the ladder, wedged between the doors, down to ground level and deep into the shaft. It was squeezed tight by the doors and hard to maneuver.

Once they laid it out flat on the floor, the tight grip was appreciated. Blossom and Buttercup stood on the far end of the ladder, securely on the floor. Bubbles looked back and offered a grim nod once they were in place. She held the grinder awkwardly as she crawled out into the dark shaft, using the ladder as an awkward, dangerous bridge.

The rungs of the ladder were not broad, flat places comfortable for feet. They were almost perfectly round, uncomfortable in the best of circumstances. Now she was banging shins and knees as she crawled, then trying to sit awkwardly so she could wield the grinder with two hands. She was careful to not look down into the endless darkness below.

The ladder came to an end partway through the shaft, where it had bumped into the elevator cable. Even now it snaked its way downward before her eyes. She powered on the grinder and waited.

Soon the cable stopped moving. She wasn't sure which floor the elevator car had paused on, but she didn't care. All that mattered was a chance to cut. She cautiously pushed into the cable, careful to not slip or overextend herself and send the grinder—or, worse, herself—tumbling down the dark shaft below.

The flexible cable might as well have been a rigid steel pole, not moving at all in response to her pressure. The weight of the elevator car held it taut, making it a little easier to cut.

There was no need to fear for Professor's safety if he were in the elevator right now. Even with the safeties Bubbles had disengaged so they could mess with the doors, the elevator would still catch itself before falling very far. With any luck, the girls hoped it might get stuck between floors, maybe before Professor even got back in.

The elevator started descending again, and Bubbles pulled back for fear of losing the grinder. It was hard to tell in this light, but she wasn't sure she even made it halfway through. She'd have to do better next floor.

When it stopped again, she tried a different tactic. Instead of grinding straight through, she wound her way carefully around. It seemed to work better, soon leaving only the core of the heavy, steel cable. The short blade of the grinder had trouble working deeper.

Then the cable started moving again. This time, however, it was moving up.

Pulse quickening, Bubbles pressed against the core of the cable with all her might, but it was moving too quickly. She reached out with one hand, grabbing the cable. It was greasy, but helped steady her as she got to her feet. She did her best to keep up pressure with the other hand, grinder following the cable as it rose.

Before she made it completely through, the cable snapped under the strain. Bubbles cried in pain as it whipped past her hand, then in fear as she began losing her balance with nothing to hold onto. Her arms windmilled as she tried to stabilize herself, and on instinct she let go of the still-whirring grinder. It was only throwing off her balance and had to go.

Blossom and Buttercup jerked back when the grinder came flying in their general direction. It was a small miracle they didn't reflexively hop off the ladder to protect themselves. Without their weight to steady it, Bubbles would go tumbling down. For that same reason, they were hesitant to come to her aid. Without help, however...

"Buttercup, stay here!" Blossom ordered.

Buttercup crouched, keeping her weight on the back of the ladder but gripping it to steady herself. Blossom was counting on the physics of a pivot, and that Buttercup's weight further away from the elevator door would be more than a match for Bubbles's weight closer to the elevator door. It was.

Blossom rushed forward and stretched one arm through the elevator doors, using the other to steady herself. Her fingers hooked in Bubbles's belt and pulled her closer.

Bubbles fell onto the ladder with a shrill cry, then clambered out onto solid ground. She rolled aside, onto her back, panting.

Buttercup pulled the ladder out, but the doors did not close. Apparently they'd given up trying.

Blossom knelt beside Bubbles. "Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

Buttercup picked up the grinder and shut it off.

"I think..." Bubbles sucked in a breath through her teeth, apparently only feeling her injury after her adrenaline surge ended. "I think I hurt my hand."

Blossom saw a gash along Bubbles's grease-blackened palm. It was hard to tell through the muck what shape it was in, but Blossom didn't think it was too deep. It still looked bad enough to warrant stitches.

"Are you okay to move?" Blossom asked.

"I think I can deal," she said, grunting as she sat up. She left a greasy palm print on the ground as she did so.

"Buttercup, get Bubbles a latex glove and some gauze." Blossom herself stood up and rifled through drawers. She found a pack of zip ties. Bubbles was pressing the gauze against her palm when Blossom returned to them.

"Buttercup, help me put this glove on." She handed the zip tie to Bubbles's good hand for a moment. After the glove was on, she took it back and gently tightened it around Bubbles's wrist. "You pull it as tight as you feel comfortable. We'll have to get the cut cleaned and fixed later, but we don't have time to get that grease off right now."

Bubbles nodded, and used her free hand to tighten the zip tie. Blossom grabbed a rag and squirted some soap directly onto it, then wiped at a grease smudge from Bubbles's forearm. She didn't get it completely clean, even after running it under some water, but she hoped Bubbles was less likely to leave a trail of grease behind her now.

"Okay, girls," Blossom ordered. "Grab the grinder and that toolbox. We're going to take another shot at escaping. I'll run ahead of you and try our key on the other doors, just in case."

Her sisters nodded at her. Blossom ran upstairs, sparing a glance at the inner lab. She still wondered what else was on that computer, but if she stuck around to find answers it might be the last thing she ever did. At least, before the next Blossom woke up.

The key did not fit the garage, the front door, or the back.

When Blossom returned to the living room, Bubbles was nowhere to be seen. Buttercup had begun working on the front door with a hammer and chisel, quickly and easily tapping the hinge pins up and out. She'd even carried in a chair from the kitchen, knocking the top pin out first.

Blossom checked the toolbox and picked up a claw hammer. By then the last pin was out and she and Buttercup tried pulling the door aside with their hammer claws. As at Ms. Bellum's, it seemed some unseen deadbolts along the top or bottom of the door were holding it firm.

"Grinder," Blossom ordered as she climbed on the chair. Buttercup handed her the grinder and Blossom turned it on, running it along the top crack of the door. The bulky tool didn't let the small blade cut deeply, as that wasn't its purpose. Still, Blossom did feel it brush against some sturdier thing on top. Just barely.

"There's a bolt here we can't cut. We'll have to try something else."

"Can that thing cut through bulletproof glass?" Buttercup asked.

"It's worth a try," Blossom admitted. "But it could splinter and hurt someone. Go downstairs and find some safety glasses. Or better yet, a face shield or welding helmet."

Buttercup nodded and jogged downstairs. Bubbles came walking downstairs at around the same time. "All the windows are locked," she announced.

"Door has a lock we can't cut through. The others probably aren't any better. We're going to try grinding through the glass, assuming we can't just break through it."

Bubbles walked up and grabbed the hammer Blossom had dropped on the floor. She took a swing at the living room window with her good hand, and did no more damage than they had done at Ms. Bellum's.

"Can you send a message with your laptop?" Bubbles asked.

"To who? Does 911 have an e-mail? What would we even say?"

Bubbles shrugged. "I'm running out of ideas."

Blossom frowned.

Buttercup came running back, holding a plastic face shield. "Found one," she announced.

"Great. One of you girls start cutting through a window somewhere. The other one needs to stay far away in case glass starts chipping off. Try not to get hurt, and one of you keep an eye out. I'll be right back." Blossom then ran to her bedroom.

"I'll watch," Bubbles said. She suggested, "Do the front window. Maybe the noise will get someone's attention. I'm going to mess with the lights—will that bother you?"

Buttercup shook her head. She pulled the kitchen chair over to the window and sat down backwards, using the back of the chair to shield her body below the face shield. She fired up the grinder and started cutting. It tended to bounce and skip on the surface, and a piece of glass did bounce off her face shield.

Bubbles stood near the kitchen, also along the house's front wall but on the other side of the front door. A piece of glass would have to go almost completely sideways to get her from here. She began flicking the living room lights on and off. Three short bursts, three long, and three short again. After a pause, she repeated this. S.O.S. was the one bit of Morse code most people were likely to be familiar with.

Given the late hour, it was possible nobody would notice. But if the sound of the grinder could be heard, maybe it would prompt someone to look out.

Blossom came jogging out of her room, pressing against the wall near Bubbles. She still had to yell to be heard over the tool. "Every time I try to send an e-mail, I get a server error. How's the window coming?"

"I don't know," Bubbles replied.

"Buttercup! Buttercup!" Blossom called. The grinder stopped. Blossom walked over, her motions eerie in the unsteady light Bubbles was making.

"How's it going?" Blossom asked.

"Slow," Buttercup said.

Blossom had a hard time seeing with the flickering lights, but appreciated what Bubbles was doing enough to not stop her. Blossom leaned forward and smelled, and through the burning smell she caught a hint of cool air outside. The gash in the window was only a few inches long, however. If they kept up this pace, they could be out by morning. Maybe.

"Keep it up," Blossom said, looking at her sister now. Her voice faltered just briefly when she saw red spots along Buttercup's bare arms. Blood dripped lightly from some of them, and Blossom noticed a few marks in the face shield that might not have been there before. She patted Buttercup on the back and said, "You're doing great."

Buttercup smiled and returned to her work. Blossom returned to Bubbles.

"A few hours, at least," Blossom estimated.

"Do you think he'll stay stuck down there for that long?"

"Probably not," Blossom admitted.

"Buttercup said when she took the Chemical X she was conscious long enough to break the vial. Maybe one of us could drink ours and try to break through before we pass out?"

Blossom stopped to consider the idea. It would mean some dead weight to carry, but if two of them were conscious they could probably manage carrying a third. They'd only need to get to a neighbor's house. At least, that's probably all they needed to do. Surely Professor hadn't been messing with that many people's minds...right?

"It's worth a shot," Blossom said. "Buttercup! Hold up!" The grinding stopped. "Buttercup, we—"

"Blossom!" Bubbles called out. She stopped flicking the light switch, leaving the lights on.

Blossom turned around. Professor stood in the basement doorway, holding a fire axe.


	27. Confrontation

Chapter 27  
[Confrontation]

"You girls are worrying me," Professor said. "You've been acting very strangely, and Ms. Bellum seemed very upset."

" _We've_ been acting strangely?" Blossom retorted. "What about all the other girls? You killed them, didn't you?"

Professor narrowed his eyes. "What other girls? Who said there were other girls?"

"We read your research notes. About how you 'terminated' the 'experiments.' We saw video of you shooting Bubbles down in the hallway!"

Professor took in a deep breath and let it loose in a prolonged sigh. He set the head of the axe on the floor, but did not let go of the handle. "You girls don't understand. You're not going to die. I'm trying to fix you. To make you better. You'll wake up again, and next time will be better. And, if needed, the next time, and the time after that."

"'Fix us?'" Bubbles asked. "What do you mean 'fix us?'"

"You girls were very badly hurt by your experiences. I'm trying to make those old wounds go away. You all made it clear long ago that those scars are too much for you to bear. If you would just cooperate, this doesn't even have to be painful. But, either way, you won't remember any of this. I promise."

"But we will remember, eventually. You can't totally destroy a memory," Blossom said, hoping it was true enough.

Professor shook his head. "That's a non-issue. I start with the same baseline, and that includes none of your experiences of the last few weeks. There won't be any new memories to remove. So really, girls, none of this matters right now."

"It matters to us!" Buttercup cried back. "We're alive! We're us! The only us!"

Professor grunted. "Please, girls, I'm very tired, and we've had this conversation before." He lofted the axe again, holding in two hands, parallel to the floor. "Now I'll hear no more lip from you. I mean it. You girls will march downstairs right this instant, do you understand? You should be very disappointed in your behavior. Do you understand?"

"No!" Buttercup cried. "No, we don't understand. We refuse to listen to you any more, ever! Do you understand, chump?"

Professor narrowed his eyes at her. "I imagine I'll have to move to another house after this. The wiring, the ladder... This one is too compromised."

"Compromised?" Blossom asked. "Is that what you think we are? Compromised? Are you going to treat us like this house? We grew up here. We lived here together our whole lives. Our whole lives _with you_. This was a place of love and family, and you're just going to throw that away like you're going to throw us away? Wake up, dad—what you're doing is wrong, and you should know it."

Professor shook his head. "It doesn't matter, sweetie. You won't remember any of this, and when I'm done everything will be better. Only I will have to remember. Only I will have to carry the burden of the dark times in our family's life. I will suffer anything—anything—for your sakes."

Bubbles shook her head. "You're crazy. You can't call this love. When will this ever be over? When will you ever be satisfied? How perfect do your perfect little girls have to be before you stop thinking of killing us? Can you ever look at us the same way again? Whenever we do something wrong, will you only think of grounding us and stopping our allowance? Won't you always be thinking of killing us or brainwashing us? Once the option of killing someone is on the table, do you really think you can ever take it off again? That it's that easy to change back to the way things were?"

Professor shook his head. "I know what I'm doing, girls. Trust me. This will all be over soon." He tightened his grip on the axe and started advancing, trying to hide his limp and failing.

"Grab the stuff," Blossom ordered. "Upstairs!"

She grabbed the loose tools. Bubbles snatched the toolbox. Buttercup was right behind them with the face shield and grinder.

Professor lurched forward as fast as he could, grunting with the pain of the effort, but barely made it out of the kitchen by the time the girls were at the top of the stairs.

"Dad's room," Blossom ordered. It was as good a pick as any. With any luck, they might find something useful in there.

They shoved a dresser in front of the door. "Try cutting along the edge of the window," Blossom ordered. "Maybe the frame is weaker than the glass."

"Got it," Buttercup said. She pulled her face shield on and went over to the window.

"Bubbles, help me search the room."

They heard Professor twist the knob, then pull out his key and unlock it. Although it took some effort, Blossom avoided the urge to stare at the door and wait for the inevitable. The failed attempt to simply push the door open. His eventual success when he just pushed harder and moved the dresser.

Even over the grinder's whine, they heard a loud thunk and crack as the axe hit the door. Interior doors in many homes were flimsy and hollow. Given that he'd fired a bullet through it once, his bedroom door was probably thin at one time as well. It seemed he'd decided to replace it with something sturdier, which was working out in the girls' favor and slowing him down.

Blossom found nothing useful in her search. Though it was hard to admit, part of her was disappointed they didn't find his gun.

She'd paid little attention to Buttercup during her search, but took notice now. She turned the grinder off and pounded on the window with the butt of it. She'd already finished working her way along the edges. The window still held from the other side of the frame, but at least she'd cut through as much as she could.

"Hold on," Blossom said. She picked up the grinder and turned it back on. She handed it to Bubbles and nodded her head at the other window, then at the door. Bubbles nodded, receiving the message that she was supposed to keep grinding on a different window so Professor couldn't hear that anything had changed. She put on Buttercup's face shield and got to work.

"I've got you," Blossom said, standing behind Buttercup and slipping her arms under her sister's. "I lift and you kick on three," she spoke directly into Buttercup's ear.

Buttercup nodded. Blossom counted, and on three she pulled back, lifting her sister off the ground. Buttercup pulled her legs back, then kicked out with all her might. This sent Blossom off balance, falling halfway onto and halfway off the bed behind them.

"Again," she said, climbing up and grabbing on with out hesitation.

Professor continued chipping at the door, the wood cracking more loudly with each blow. It might take a long time for him to get into the room, but it would take far less to make a peephole. Their best bet was to make a clean break and cover some ground before Professor even noticed they were missing.

Again, Buttercup kicked. Again they fell, but less awkwardly. After the third kick, the window gave a bit along one edge. Another good kick and it was more than halfway free. Now that it had so much more flexibility, however, it took a few more kicks to break the other seams and fully dislodge it.

Blossom peered out. It was a two-story drop into their lawn. She glanced at the toolbox, and decided it wasn't worth weighing them down with anything. Then she pushed Buttercup towards the window and went to take Bubbles's place with the grinder. Blossom wanted to be the last one to leave.

That wasn't meant to be. Bubbles came to take up the grinder again, nodding Blossom back over to Buttercup. She stood stood by the window, looking afraid.

Into her ear, "Buttercup, you go out ahead. We'll be right behind you."

Back into Blossom's, "But I'm scared. Will you catch me?"

Blossom furrowed her brow. They were powerless, but that wasn't usually enough to turn Buttercup into a scaredy-cat.

They didn't have time to argue. Blossom went to Bubbles and said, "Leave it running and come down after us."

Bubbles nodded, but kept working at the second window for now. Blossom climbed through the first window and hung by her fingertips, trying to make the drop as short as possible. She cried "Oof!" when she dropped to the ground, landing first on her feet, then her behind. She got to her feet and motioned for Buttercup to follow. Blossom couldn't actually catch her from that height—not without risk of hurting them both even more—but she did grab on in time to soften her sister's fall onto her backside.

The grinder sounded different when Bubbles stopped pressing it into the other window frame. It was still whirring loudly, but it would only be a matter of time before Professor realized it wasn't being used anymore.

Bubbles appeared at the window and, soon after, on the ground. She clutched her injured, gloved hand, but made no complaint or cry of pain.

"Follow me," Buttercup said, running off towards the street.

"We should go to a neighbor for help," Blossom said, trying to not shout and let Professor hear her. They were jogging down a sidewalk now, through patches of dim street lights.

"Like they can protect us. Or the police," Buttercup said. "We've gotta take care of ourselves, do you understand?"

"How?" Bubbles asked.

"The old train station," Buttercup said. "We can hide out there until morning."

"And then what?" Bubbles said.

"It's not a bad idea," Blossom admitted. Her chest was starting to hurt. She knew the proper technique for running without developing a stitch, but it was hard to control her breathing and talk at the same time. "It's only a few blocks away, so we can get there on foot. If there's still working water, we can hold out without food for a few days. Once the Antidote X starts to wear off, we can make a break for it."

The old train station hadn't been in service for decades. Much of the track leading to and from it had already been pulled up for urban development, and now it was just a dilapidated landmark. Many of the windows, especially near the ground, had been boarded up.

Fortunately, one of the boards had been pulled away by neighborhood kids. The floor inside was dusty, littered with scattered trash and patches of broken glass. The curving skylight of glass and iron above was mostly intact. It let in a soft glow from distant streetlights.

"Let's hide in the tunnel," Buttercup said. "We'll be hard to see in the dark."

"What about...rats?" Bubbles asked.

"One of us should keep watch, regardless," Blossom suggested. They walked towards the tracks and hopped down off the platform. An artificial tunnel ran a short distance into a hillside. The other end was blocked off, some two hundred feet from the station hall.

Blossom spotted lights from a passing car beaming against the windows behind them. She considered whether they should flag down a driver somewhere. There were plenty of people out in the city. Most would be willing to help. Most had to be. But they had to take care of themselves.

Then they heard a car door.

"It's...probably nothing," Blossom said. "House across the street, maybe." Still, they picked up their pace.

Buttercup spotted a crowbar laying on the tracks and picked it up before they passed into darkness so deep they had to feel their way along the walls.

"Shh," Blossom shushed. Her sisters stopped and listened. They heard soft footsteps shuffling. Different than their steps on the coarse gravel around the track.

Turning carefully, trying to avoid shifting the gravel underfoot or making noise that would give them away, they saw a flashlight shining in the station behind them.

"It's not too late, girls," Professor called out. "I brought some sedatives if you want them." A small bag came into view, tossed down on the tracks. "This doesn't have to hurt if you cooperate."


	28. Tight Chains, No Way Out

Chapter 28  
[Tight Chains – No Way Out]

"You know this isn't the first time I've come here. I was right on your heels last time as well. One thing about fresh baselines is that some of your clever new ideas are just clever old ones." The flashlight and voice moved further down the station. Professor was leaving them plenty of room to come and grab the bag of sedatives—or whatever it was—that he'd offered them.

"I chased you down—my leg was fine at the time, of course—and you gave me no choice but to kill you. I had to leave you there, hoping to God that nobody found your body before I came back for it. You hurt my hand pretty badly with a crowbar. I admit, I might have lost my temper a bit." The flashlight stopped moving. Professor moaned as he took a seat on a bench somewhere out of sight.

"After all, you'd acted so strangely. I was lightening the Antidote X dosage, waiting to see if there would be significant changes as your powers began to recover. I never could quite wrap my head around you. Around her, I mean. I think she's gone now. Very close, if not completely. She was alone at the time, since I still had so many kinks to work out with her. Writing on the wall, things hidden in strange places. She'd cut power to the main line, but even without the surveillance videos to help I believed I'd cleaned everything up. Guess I was wrong."

Professor went silent for a while. "Well, girls? I know that tunnel is a dead end. Are you going to just pretend you're not there? This marks the third time you've come this way. Well, third time you've tried."

"Go to hell!" Bubbles shouted.

Blossom gripped Bubbles's shoulder, urging silence, but the damage had been done. Not that it would have helped, anyway.

"I also keep a shotgun in my car," he said. "Present from Mr. Morbucks, actually. To 'shoot the son a bitch that murdered our daughters, if you ever find him.' I was touched, really. Especially considering that this was after he'd pieced together that Bubbles was actually the Harvester."

Blossom tried to look at her sister's face, but they were all shrouded in thick darkness.

"Not that he remembers, now. She didn't cover her tracks very well. I had to clean up that mess. I had to kill a hapless farmer to sell that story. Now Mr. Morbucks buys that story the same as everyone else does. And, apparently, buys me a shotgun to 'shoot the son of a bitch.' Never actually thought I would, Bubbles, but here we are. Now, girls, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Take the sedatives from the bag, and everything will be fine. Do you understand?"

Bubbles offered a profanity in response.

"All right, young lady, that's enough of that." The flashlight started moving again. Professor came into view and carefully climbed down into the track area. Even then, he still grunted in pain when he landed.

The flashlight was perched on the shotgun. The girls scrambled further down the tunnel, to a shallow alcove with a maintenance door. It was, of course, locked. They pressed against the wall, hoping to stay out of view as long as possible.

"You girls don't know how much it hurts me to do this. I take all these precautions to avoid these kinds of situations and give you a peaceful way out, and this is how you repay me?"

Bubbles called back, "Don't you ever worry? No matter how many times you get us, we'll come back. But there's only one you."

"Bubbles, sweetie—"

Bubbles stepped out of the alcove there was a loud pop. Blossom held her breath, expecting to hear Bubbles toppling backward. It took her a moment to realize the shot hadn't come from Professor.

Bubbles fired twice more, the muzzle flashing in the darkness around them. When had she picked up the gun? Had she grabbed it when she went upstairs to check the windows? Was she preparing herself for this possibility from the moment they climbed out of the lab tonight?

Bubbles advanced, firing five or six more times as she did. Blossom and Buttercup dared to peek their heads around the corner. The dropped shotgun's flashlight cast a beam at the tunnel wall, reflecting a fainter light on Professor.

He sat on the ground, leaning weakly against the wall. Bubbles stopped next to him and, clutching the gun in both hands, fired another round into his chest. Then another into his head. He slumped onto his side, and Bubbles kept firing into his head until the gun made empty clicking sounds.

The clicking continued for a few seconds before Bubbles dropped it, then fell to her knees. She began to cry, moaning in grief and pain.

Blossom walked hesitantly towards her sister, wanting to do something for her, but afraid to face the reality of the situation.


	29. Room of Angel

Chapter 29  
[Room of Angel (Remix)]

The girls climbed up to the station hall and sat on a bench together. They couldn't bear to stay in the tunnel any longer. For that matter, maybe they should even get moving before anyone came to investigate the gunshots. Would anyone believe the truth if they told them?

"So what happens now?" Blossom asked, at a loss.

"Welcome to freedom, honey." Bubbles said morosely. "It's a big, scary place."

Buttercup wrapped her arm around Blossom's waist and pulled her close, nuzzling her sister's chest. "Now we can be together again."

Blossom smiled and wrapped her arm around Buttercup.

"I'm not a killer," Bubbles said. "At least...I never wanted to be. And never again."

"I know," Blossom said. "We're stronger together."

"You saved our butts," Buttercup pointed out. "You were strong for us."

Blossom asked, "Should we grab his keys and go back to the house? Read the rest of his notes?"

"Do you want to?" Bubbles asked.

"Not really," Blossom admitted. The last things she wanted to go anywhere near right now were his body or his house. From the sound of it, there was probably "another her" lying around somewhere. The original. Dead. She just didn't want to think about that. Right now, she didn't have room for those thoughts.

"Was I a good girl?" Buttercup asked.

"Yes," Blossom cooed, kissing the top of her head. "A very good girl," she said wearily.

"Who are you?" Bubbles asked. "Are you Buttercup, or are you Ashley?"

Blossom's heart skipped a beat.

"Both. Neither. I don't know." She squeezed Blossom more tightly. "I have my mommy again."

"How long have you known?" Blossom asked.

Buttercup shrugged. "I still don't 'know.' I just kind of feel things sometimes. Remember things. Sometimes I remember things that haven't happened yet. Sometimes I remember Buttercup's things. Sometimes I remember Ashley's. Professor almost took it all away. I don't know if it will ever come back like it was. But none of that matters, because I have you."

Blossom teared up, and she had to force her words through her clenched throat. "Yes, you do."

"Did you plan this?" Bubbles asked.

"Maybe I did once. I can't remember."

A faded memory came to Blossom's mind. Something her father had once said. _No one can truly appreciate what it is to bring a new person into this life until they've actually done it. She'll make friends. Grow up. Change the world. Nothing will ever be the same._ _But you'll love her. Maybe more than you could even expect. Maybe someday she'll do something that scares you, or disappoints you. But you'll always be proud of her. So, so proud._

Blossom sniffled, and squeezed her warmly. "My little survivor." She sniffled again. "I think maybe I should call you Ashley now."

"I like that name," she replied. "It's the first thing you ever gave me."

Blossom couldn't hold it back now. No words came out, only tears. She didn't even notice that Bubbles left the bench until she came back and spoke up.

"We should get going," she said. Blossom blinked away tears and saw Bubbles was holding the shotgun, though its flashlight was shut off. "I was careful to only touch the pistol with the glove hand," she said, holding up her injured, greasy hand. "I think we can lay low for a while without anyone looking for us. Until our powers come back."

Ashley sat up.

Blossom wiped away her tears. "Where should we go?"

"Anywhere else."

Blossom nodded. "Sounds right to me."

Bubbles asked, "Either of you think you can drive a car?"

Blossom stood. "I can give it a try."

"Fred Johnson," Bubbles said, tossing the keys. "That's the name of the farmer Professor framed as the Harvester. Nobody's claimed the property. It has well water. If we can get there before police start looking for Professor's car, we can hide it in the barn."

"You remembering past lives again?" Blossom asked.

"No. I went there when I snuck out the other night. There and the warehouse I died at."

"Has it all come back?"

"No. But as much as I think Professor was wrong for what he did... I do kind of hope I'm done remembering."

They climbed out of the station and filed into Professor's car. Blossom would soon be introduced to the joys of driving at night—or at all. Her one saving grace was that traffic would be light this time of night.

"I can't believe he's gone," Blossom said once they were out of the city. Blazing down the highway at all of forty-five miles per hour.

"Shh," Bubbles quieted her. "I think Ashley's asleep."

"Sorry," Blossom whispered back. "Lucky her."

"Yeah," Bubbles agreed. "She has her mommy to look over her."

Blossom giggled. "I can try to be your mommy, too."

"No, thanks. I don't think that would be healthy for either of us."

"You...holding up okay?"

"No. But I'll survive. It's all we've got left. That and each other."

"That will change. There's a place for us in the world."

Bubbles pointed out, "That place was a grave, once. Have you considered maybe we should lay low for a while? Put the superhero stuff behind us, live our lives, and grow up just a bit?"

"All the time. Do you think you could restrain yourself if someone needed help?"

"I guess not. So that's just the way it is, huh?"

Blossom had no response. They finished their drive in silence, Bubbles directing them down country roads just as the sun was starting to peek over the horizon.

"We're here," Blossom said, turning to look back at Ashley.

"I'll open the barn," Bubbles said before leaving the car. Closing her door seemed to help rouse Ashley from her slumber.

"Wake up, sleepy-head."

Ashley smiled, though her eyes were still closed as she stretched. "Are we there?"

"Yep, we're there."

Bubbles pulled open the barn doors, and Blossom inched her way inside. Piloting Dynamo still seemed easier than this. Maybe because she was still too short to see outside comfortably.

"Just in time," Blossom noted. She'd been worried about low on gas the car had run. She'd honestly worried they'd have to go the rest of the way on foot and maybe even push the car if they wanted to hide it.

Leaving the barn behind them, they approached the house. It was old and well-lived-in. Only a single story. The front door was locked, but a conspicuous rock on the porch turned out to be a hide-a-key.

Blossom ordered, "Butter—Ashley, you keep watch while we catch some shuteye."

"I call the sofa," Bubbles said.

"You don't want the bed?"

"The smelly old man farmer bed? No, you can have it."

"I'll check his mailbox," Ashley said. "Maybe there are magazines I can read or something."

"Or maybe even a check we could cash somehow?" Blossom speculated. "Okay, but you come right back."

"The mailbox is just up the road, by the highway," Bubbles pointed out. She tossed off her shoes and sprawled out on the sofa.

Blossom didn't even care about the ruffled state of the bed covers in the other room, or how many days or months they had been slept in without washing. She pulled her shoes off and climbed in. After everything that had happened, she still expected trouble sleeping.

Yet, when Ashley returned only a few minutes later, she had to shake Blossom awake.

"Blossom! Blossom, I found something."

Blossom needed a few seconds to heft her mind back into the realm of lucidity. "What did you find?" she asked weakly.

Instead of answering, Ashley hopped off the bed and ran to the kitchen. Bubbles was already stirring when Blossom staggered past.

A pile of old, rain-crinkled mail was piled on the table. No magazines, and mostly junk mail. On top of that pile, however, was a crayon drawing on a piece of notebook paper.

The aesthetics were little more than a first grader could muster. Three small people—colored in pink, baby blue, and light green clothes—stood hand-in-hand in front of a house. A dotted line ran from the house to five tiny trees. A single line of blue that might represent a river or stream ran through. A tiny green tent and a yellow campfire on brown wood was drawn below the trees.

Near a corner of the paper, a letter "N," tilted on its side, possibly signified north.

The handwriting was clear enough. "Wish I were here. You have to leave by noon. I love you, mommy. Be safe."

At the bottom right corner, the artist had signed her name. "Ashley," written in green and flanked by pink hearts.

Ashley handed Blossom the envelope it had come in. Blossom looked over it, seeing the Utonium residence as the return address. The stamp had been postmarked more than a year ago.

"Do you remember this?" Blossom asked.

Ashley shook her head.

Bubbles asked, "What does it mean?"

Blossom slowly drew and loosed a deep breath. "I guess it means we go camping."

Desperate, Bubbles asked, "But, it's over, right? I mean, he's dead."

"I'm not about to stop following her path now, are you?"

Bubbles had no response to that.

"Noon gives us a few hours. We'll gather some supplies and head west by north-west until we find a good campsite. Sleep will have to wait. All right girls, spread out and pack."


	30. Survival

Chapter 30  
[Survival]

A glowing red timer in an otherwise dark room counted down. Five. Four. Three.

Soon it reached zero and began flashing. A nearby display lit up. "Dead Man's Switch Triggered. Uploading..."

A progress bar appeared on the screen, working its way steadily. After several minutes, it was full.

More soft light spilled into the room from the inside of a curved, oblong chamber. Slowly, the lid lifted itself and pulled to the side.

Bare feet slapped on the cold, metal floor. He pulled on a white lab coat from a nearby hook, covering his nakedness. His hand flicked a switch, and the long, narrow room was bathed in cold, artificial light.

"Current date?" he asked the room.

An artificial voice responded. He'd only lost one day since his last memory backup.

He sat at a computer station. "Transfer all video logs 36 hours and newer."

Professor gently tapped his lip as he watched the videos. He could create a new body for the stasis chamber later. Now he needed to find out what had gone wrong.

He leaned back and watched the video feed, sparing a glance down the long room. Nearly three dozen other stasis chambers ran the length of the wall. Only the one was open.

* * *

Author's Afterward:

Thank you for reading.

I had intended for this to be the last entry in the _Ladder_ series. Most of the mysteries of the series have been revealed or could be pieced together, and there's much less horror to be found in the known.

However, we are left with stories yet to be told. Holes in the past as well as an uncertain future. Perhaps these shall be fleshed out in a future Halloween season.

Until then, thank you for sharing this journey with me. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I have.


End file.
